Black Bulgarian Rose (adopted)
by GarGoyl
Summary: Story adopted from Republic-of-Yolossia. Three kids wandering in the woods at night come across a mysterious stranger who offers to tell them his story. A little tale of terror about just how dangerous first love can be. Vampire!Bulgaria, black roses and (good God) yogurt. I don't own Hetalia.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

A/N – Hello everyone! As the summary says it, this is a story I adopted from my fellow author Republic-of-Yolossia and basically the first three chaps are his work, with very little tampering on my part. Anyway, I do hope you guys will enjoy this absolutely grand plot we have devised together and which couldn't be left for dead :))

 _Tsvetan - Bulgaria_

 _Alin - Romania_

 _Peter – Sealand_

 _Charlotte – Wy_

 _Kuzey - TRNC_

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Kuzey looked around nervously, sharp eyes scanning the gloomy, murky forest they were in for anything sinister that could attack the unsuspecting group of children. Peter scoffed.

"Of course it is! What sort of idiot do you take me for?"

Kuzey opened his mouth to retort but their other friend, Charlotte, elbowed him. He gave a small grumble, watching the little Englishman attempt to force open one of the dusty, grimy windows of the abandoned house that stood before them. It was small, and took up one storey, barely more than a decaying shack. The windows were opaque, and the wooden walls covered in dirt and cobwebs.

The sun had long gone down, and the trio was huddled together in the darkness. They'd not meant to wander so far from home, they had been simply curious about what was in the woods near their town, and had gone exploring. Now, they were frightened and cold and just wanted to run home to their parents, but they didn't know where home was anymore. They had wandered for hours, cold feet trudging over undergrowth and mud as they stared at the endless expanse of trees around them, desperately searching for some sign of civilization.

It had been Peter's idea to take shelter in the little hut, and since he was the bravest out of the three (or stupidest, as Kuzey and Charlotte mentioned repeatedly), it was his job to go in first. He finally managed to lift the rusty, stiff window, creating a gap large enough for the three children to squeeze themselves through.

Peter was the first in, peering around the tiny room, empty of furniture, eyes straining in the darkness before deciding the coast was clear, and beckoned for the other two to follow him. Kuzey helped the youngest member of the group through before climbing in himself, glancing behind him once more to make certain that they weren't being followed.

When all three of them were inside, the blond pulled out a tiny torch, using it to check the corners of the room for anything malevolent or scary. Satisfied that they were alone, he turned to the other two.

"Okay, we'll stay here for the night," he began, "Then look for home in the morning. Maybe then, our heads will be clearer."

"Or maybe our parents will call the police and they'll find us here before that," suggested Charlotte, "At least then we'll not have to worry about trying to find a way out of here."

"True!"

"Are you positive it's deserted?" Kuzey glanced uneasily at the door, leading to a second room in the hut.

"Sure," Peter wandered over and kicked the door open, "See? Nothing to worry about!"

"Are you sure about that?"

The children screamed, wheeling around brusquely to find a hunched figure in the doorway, clothed in something which looked like an oversized black hoodie. It also covered the top half of the man's face, but they could see he was grinning, sharp teeth glistening in the rays of moonlight spilling in through the window.

"Who are you?" Peter cried, shielding the other two and putting his fists up ready for a fight.

The figure's grin widened. "I'm your worst nightmare."

"Oh please," Kuzey scoffed, "You're not Peter!"

"Hey!"

The stranger chuckled, lowering his hood. "Don't be afraid, children. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know what you're doing in my home."

He had strawberry blond hair, scruffy yet vibrant and silky, his pale face clear of blemishes, shining red eyes bordered by thick lashes and his frame petite, delicate and graceful. He seemed completely flawless in appearance, apart from the dust and dirt covering him, like it had been years since he'd last bathed.

"We're lost," Charlotte admitted, peering from behind Peter.

"Oh? Oh dear, you poor things!" The stranger's words sounded false and cold, and Kuzey and Charlotte exchanged nervous glances, but Peter appeared unfazed. He stepped closer, smiling hopefully.

"Do you think we can stay here with you, mister?" he inquired, "Just for a bit! We're really tired from walking."

"Of course!"

The stranger beckoned for them to follow him into the next room, disappearing through the doorway. As Peter went to follow the man, Charlotte held him back.

"I don't like this," she hissed, "He looks dangerous."

"We should cut from the scene while we still can," added Kuzey, eyes flicking towards the window.

"Oh come off it!" Peter scoffed, shrugging Charlotte's hand away, "You two are a bunch of big babies! What choice do we have anyway?"

Kuzey looked like he was about to argue back, but the stranger interrupted them. "Come on!" he called from the other room, "I have a fire going on in here! Come and get warm. There's nothing to fear!"

Peter threw a smug glance in Kuzey's direction before wandering into the other room, his friends slowly, cautiously following. They found themselves in a tiny bedroom, similar in appearance to the previous one, but with more furniture. Dirt and grime made the stone floor almost invisible, and in the shadows, the children heard rats scurrying about, and flies buzzing lazily. There was a grubby mattress in the corner, covered in dull, rough blankets piled haphazardly on top of each other, and a low table next to it, containing a single, black rose. A small stove stood on the other side of the room, in use as the stranger sat on the floor in front of it, warming his gloved hands with the small, crackling fire it contained. The one window in the room was covered by a sheet of dirty canvas.

"Come, sit," he ordered, motioning for the children to join him on the floor, "My name is Alin Radacanu, by the way."

"I'm Peter Kirkland," Peter replied, turning off his torch and sitting on the floor next to him. "And these are my friends: Kuzey Adnan and Charlotte Cook."

"Sorry but I don't care what your names are," Alin waved a hand dismissively, "You're just 'child one', 'child two' and 'child three' to me. Always been bad with names and to be honest, I don't really like children…" He grumbled the last part more to himself, stretching his long fingers.

"Charming," Charlotte stared disdainfully at the mucky floor before joining Peter, huddling close to her friend and the fire. Like Peter, she'd worn shorts instead of trousers, and was shivering, cold to the bone. She pulled her pink coat tighter around her, and glanced up expectantly at Kuzey. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie, but they were damp and he still felt chilly. Kuzey sighed and joined his friends on the floor, brushing dried mud and dead leaves away with his shoe before plopping down next to Charlotte.

"So what are you doing here?" Peter asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing, child one?" Alin replied.

"It looks like… you live here?"

"Indeed."

"Oh, how come?"

"Hiding," the young man said with a small, sad grin. He gulped, shakily poking at the fire in the stove with a twig, watching as the flames licked at the tiny stick and it caught ablaze. He tossed it in, sighing.

"From what?" Peter pressed, looking at him curiously.

"I… it's a long story."

"So you never leave here?" asked Kuzey, frowning slightly; "You never go into town?"

"Pretty much, yes, child two."

"How do you eat?"

"I don't," Alin frowned, glaring at the children. He should have known they would ask a lot of questions, always curious, always wanting to know more, oblivious to the dangers of it. Because it was almost as dangerous as… no, don't think about it!

"Is that possible?" Charlotte's thick brows furrowed together.

"Yes, child three. Any more questions?"

"A few," Peter replied weakly.

Alin sighed, what a pain in the ass they were and it had only been what, five minutes?

"Go on then."

"Why can't you eat? Do you like living here? Doesn't the smell bother you? Seriously, it stinks something awful here. What are you hiding from? Are you scared of something? Are you hiding because you're dirty and smelly?"

"No I am not!" Alin snapped, glaring at the boy, "I'm hiding because someone did something terrible to me, and they're still living in town, walking around amongst normal people, acting like nothing happened whilst I'm… I'm… forced to live like a dog."

"What did they do?" asked Kuzey.

"They ruined me." Alin glanced at the three children, who looked up curiously, waiting expectantly for him to continue. He turned away from the fire, facing them, sitting cross-legged with his hands resting on his knees."You really want to know?" he asked, voice flat and hoarse.

They nodded at the same time. Of course they wanted to know, accidentally he'd made it sound exciting and it was so stupid, because he really shouldn't have told the kids anything.

"Maybe we can help," Peter offered, "We're all pretty smart for our ages!"

Right. Alin gave a short, bitter laugh. He sneered at the trio, trying to hold back more laughter as they shrank away from him.

"I'm beyond the help of you mere mortals," he told them. "This is something rather not of this realm, kiddies, not for the likes of you."

"You never know," Peter sniffed, shrugging, "Maybe we can offer a fresh, new look at your situation."

The strawberry blond studied him for a minute, taking in his smooth, innocent, childish features. His head was held high, jaw sticking out determinedly and his eyes fierce. Behind him, Kuzey and Charlotte were nodding in agreement. He bit back an ironic remark along the lines of 'yeah, you and the yogurt fairy…'. Indeed, better leave the fucking yogurt fairy out of this.

"Fine, sure. Why the hell not?" He rolled his eyes before leaning closer, grinning wickedly, "If you think you can keep up, that is. This tale isn't for the faint-of-heart."

"Oh please," Charlotte scoffed, "I've probably watched scarier cartoons!"

Alin laughed again, shaking his head despairingly. "All right, if you're certain. Now listen carefully you brats, because I'm only gonna tell this story once. And you're here to witness that, aren't you lucky? Now, this is a tale of greed and destruction! It is the tale of a man… and a monster."

Peter scoffed. "Isn't that last sentence from the Hunchback of Notre Da-?"

"Shut up and listen to my story!"

Peter rolled his eyes, folding his arms and mimicking Alin in a high-pitched voice. The man glowered at him before continuing.

"So, years ago, before you brats were probably born even, there lived a boy…"

* * *

"Fuck," Alin hissed, wading through ankle-deep water to get to his kitchen, "Oh fucking shit! Fuck its mother's hat*!" He spewed out more curses as he splashed through the flooded kitchen to where the taps were spilling even more water into his house, lunging forward to turn them off. The sink was filled to the brim, water pouring over the sides onto the worktop and floor. He turned around, looking in horror at the soaked room.

Early that morning, he'd awoken to find his water supply cut off, probably from a burst pipe, and fiddled half-heartedly with the taps before leaving for university, not realising he'd left them on, and at some point during the day, the water had come back on. Now the ground floor was flooded; his carpet was ruined; the walls were soaking; and the sockets all bust. He sighed, picking up a mop and getting to work. How would he explain this to the landlord? He'd be made to pay through the nose, possibly getting evicted altogether. Maybe if he opened all the windows and doors, the water would spill out and dry off on its own. No one would need to know.

He threw the front door open, pushing water out with his mop, and froze. His neighbor. Alin lived on the end of his street, in a semi-detached little house that bordered a similar building. He didn't know who lived there, only that they were alone, and very secretive. There was a good chance some of the water had leaked into their house too, causing what he hoped was minimal damage. Alin would have to visit him and apologise.

Really, this whole mess was the last thing he needed right now, not after the long, terrible month he'd had. He was behind on his schoolwork, losing sleep and had neglected his friends and family, all because of the strange flowers. They just turned up suddenly, in his house, his rucksack, sometimes even in his pocket as he walked along the street. He'd just reach up to pull something out of his shirt pocket, and find a tiny black rose sitting snugly amongst tissues and scraps of paper. He'd reach into his bag during class, and prick his fingers on a rose lying at the bottom. He'd come home, tired from a day of lessons only to find a vase he'd never seen before sitting on his dining table filled with the black flowers.

It scared him beyond belief, and at times he'd been tempted to move out, leave the town and go back to his parents. But his pride wouldn't let him. Besides, he was enjoying his literature degree at the local university, and didn't want to throw his education away over something so trivial.

But was it? Someone was breaking into his house to do this, and, although they weren't taking anything, he still wanted them to stop. They were invading his privacy and breaking the law too. Maybe he should go to the police about it.

As he considered his options, like he'd done for weeks now, he slowly mopped up the water, throwing open the window, letting in the fresh breeze and twittering of birds. He looked out of the tiny window at his garden, overgrown and plain, the occasional flower poking through. A large wall prevented him from looking over into his neighbour's garden, even from his second storey bedroom window. Secretive weirdo.

They'd only moved in a few months ago, after the previous family had suddenly emigrated one night, not even introducing themselves except to leave a note and a jar of homemade jam. Alin had gone over to thank the man, who'd signed his note as 'Mr. Borisov', but he wasn't in. Something had felt odd about the note and gift, and he'd thrown away the jam without trying any of it, an action he immediately regretted. Rose jam was his favourite kind. The neighbour wasn't home any of the times Alin had visited, or maybe he was, and was simply ignoring him. It made Alin almost not want to bother telling him about the leak, but Alin wasn't raised to be rude, and Mr. Borisov would find out soon enough anyway.

Alin groaned as he wandered into the sitting room, wet socks squelching as his cold, wet feet splashed through the shallow flood. This was going to take fucking _ages_ to clean and dry!

"Shit taps," he hissed, looking in despair as the water swirled around the room, ruining the walls, floor and furniture. He threw the mop on the floor, snarling as he stomped back into the hall. There was no use trying to do this now, he'd probably burn the house down in a rage. Maybe his neighbour would help calm him down.

As he walked out into his front garden and stared at the dull, slightly sinister house, he realised a conversation with the faceless man could possibly rob him of the last of his patience. Alin predicted that he'd probably burn both their houses down.

He laughed at the thought. Like he'd dare! Alin wasn't tough or intimidating, like some other men. He couldn't fight, or wreak havoc. He had a slight build, no muscle, no toned limbs, and was a shy, timid man. Well, if one was to put him in a room with his best friend Arthur, and they could talk for hours about magic and legends and the occult, but with everyone else? He wouldn't know what to say. No, he was far too easily afraid, which was why he preferred living alone.

Still, he had to do this. Walking up his neighbour's path, Alin knocked on the door and waited. He hummed to himself, desperately trying to flatten his messy hair whilst looking around at the neat little front garden, with rows of small, jewel-like flowers in the flowerbeds, and rich green grass cut smartly.

The door finally opened, revealing a young man with black hair, neatly parted, and cold, calculating green eyes. He was calm and cool, giving a friendly smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, and Alin couldn't help but stare - he was unnaturally handsome. There was something else about the man, a feeling he stirred inside Alin, one that told him to run as far away as he could from Mr. Borisov and never look back. But Alin wasn't particularly wise, so he ignored that feeling and focused on another - familiarity.

He'd seen this man before.

 **To be continued**

 _*Romanian swear, 'it' refers to the situation. Anyway, in Romanian one can be as creative with their swears as they want just for the sake of stress relief, please don't try to find deeper meaning where there is none :)))))_


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! I'm so glad and grateful you're enjoying this little tale, because I surely am and all the credit goes to my dear friend and fellow author (and fellow BulRo shipper) Republic-of-Yolossia. Enjoy the new chap, I thought I'd post an early update of the adopted/revised version. **  
**

* * *

_One fine Saturday morning, about six weeks before_

Alin scowled as he peered in the windows of the shops he passed, nothing catching his eye in terms of a suitable gift. Arthur was a weird boy, that was how he and Alin had ended up such close friends, and buying him a mug or a scarf as a birthday present would not do at all. If only there was somewhere for their specific, eccentric tastes…

Suddenly, the strawberry blond caught sight of a tiny shop, down a side street and barely visible in the gloom. It was painted a dull red with large windows full of stacked, curious little objects that seemed to move and glisten on their own. Above the door and window, the name of the shop was painted in a swirling gold font, one of those generic occult-y names with 'magic' spelt deliberately wrong. Perfect.

The Romanian bounded over to the door, pushing it open to hear the tinkling of a tiny bell, and stepped inside. He found himself in a darkened room, squeezed between shelves packed to the brim with old books, charms, boxes, cards, scrolls, bottles, jewellery, coins and t-shirts emblazoned with a variety of symbols. He let out a low whistle.

"Fucking hell, this place has everything," he whispered.

"Of course it does!" a figure jumped in front of him, waving their arms.

Alin shrieked and leaped back, nearly tripping over his feet and knocking over a collection of shrunken heads in the process. "What the fuck!" he cried, "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to scare people?"

"No."

The other grinned, and Alin glared at him, taking in his messy, dark, hair and mischievous, predatory green eyes. He wore a witch-y hooded cloak, covering an embroidered tunic. At least he and Arthur had never thought to make up costumes for themselves, even in Alin's book this counted as trying too hard. He had a slight tan, and a rugged and somewhat handsome face, the blond noticed.

"So what can I do for you?" the salesman clasped their hands together.

"I need a gift for my friend," Alin told him, "He's into this kind of shit."

The salesman exhaled sharply, glowering at him for a second before leading him down the aisle. "Perhaps your friend would be interested in some lucky charms?" he suggested, "Or maybe a cloak? Would he like this book of spells? Some earrings? Maybe a vial of holy water to keep away vampires?" With each trinket, he held it under Alin's nose, as if they were incredibly precious things and not a spectacular load of crap.

"Does that even work?" Alin eyes the little bottle skeptically.

"No," the salesman admitted, "But he doesn't know that."

"I see," Alin peered at a box of love charms and shook his head, eyes wandering over to a book of creatures in Celtic mythology. "Maybe this…" He picked up the large book, leafing through the pages. The print was tiny, broken by detailed drawings of dragons and kelpies and all sorts of strange monsters, how they hunt, different variations of each species, their main anatomical features, where to find them and what to do if you see one.

"Well, if your friend likes that then maybe he'd like some more books," the salesman looked at him oddly, eyes drilling into Alin's, like he was trying to hypnotize him or something, "On other aspects of Celtic culture, or monsters from different parts of the world?"

"No thanks. One is enough."

"Okay then," the man gave a sickeningly sweet smile, "Would he like a shrunken head? Or some cards? A wand? A shirt?"

"No, just the book. Please."

"Wouldn't you like to buy something for yourself as well?"

"I'd love to, really, but I'm on a budget," Alin explained.

"Fine, please follow me to the counter."

The salesman wheeled around sharply, striding to the back of the shop whilst muttering about how some people were only trying to make a living. The Romanian was tempted to dump the book and walk out, but knew he'd never find anything else this perfect for Arthur. The man jumped over the counter with ease, turning around and smiling almost hungrily at Alin, like he was about to lunge and rip his face off. His large, rough hands gripped the counter as Alin placed the book in front of him.

"Can I have a bag, please?" he asked innocently.

"Of course," the weirdo replied through gritted teeth, pulling a large paper bag out from under the counter and stuffing the book inside. Alin quickly paid and turned to leave, but the salesman shot out a hand and gripped his shoulder.

"What are you?" he asked, voice scarcely more than a whisper.

"A human," Alin replied, raising an eyebrow, "Just like you." The other only chuckled."Can I go now?"

"One more question! Do you not find me utterly irresistible?"

The strawberry blond blinked, not knowing whether to laugh or be worried. "Uh… no, sorry. I'm sure you're attractive and all, but I'm not into… uh… just no."

* * *

"Wait, so the occult shop guy moved in next door to you?" asked Peter.

"Yes, it appeared so."

"What a strange coincidence!"

"Indeed, child one, indeed." Alin paused for a moment, lost in memories, before continuing. It really had been a fucked-up coincidence. Or not.

* * *

"Didn't you own a crappy little shop selling fake magic stuff?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"Possibly, yes," Mr. Borisov's lips thinned and he leaned against the door frame, "I'm surprised you recognized me."

Alin shrugged. The man was creepy enough to remember.

"Fair enough, though I no longer own the shop, if you must know. Sold it. Going to the university in the centre of town now."

"Hey me too!" Alin grinned, "Surprised I didn't see you there as well."

"Chances are that our timetables stop us from meeting properly," Mr. Borisov waved a hand dismissively, "Though I did catch glimpses of you."

"Really?"

"Yes. So, what's troubling my dear neighbour?"

"I… may have flooded my house by accident," Alin admitted, "And wanted to know if the water soaked into your own house as well. The thing is… I don't have any money to pay for the damage, so you're sort of on your own. Sorry."

"I see," Mr. Borisov nodded, "Well, I haven't noticed anything yet, but I'll keep an eye out for any damp."

"That's fine, and sorry for all the trouble."

"I'm sure you can make it up to me."

There it was again. That look, like Mr Borisov wanted nothing more than to disembowel him and eat his still-warm organs. Alin gulped, taking the tiniest step backwards.

"I can?"

"Yes, what do you say to the two of us going out for drinks sometime? Maybe tomorrow?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Alin scoffed, "Mr Borisov-"

"Call me Tsvetan."

"Fine, Tsvetan, are you asking me out? Because if you are-"

"I might be. But you can also see it as two friends bonding over some drinks." Tsvetan pulled what he probably thought was a convincing smile, though it still looked cold to Alin, "Look, I'll admit that I'd like to get to know you. You're a very curious man. Just humour me with this one date, okay? I can assure you that you won't be disappointed."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at five then," Tsvetan winked, taking Alin's last statement as approval to the date, "Wear something nice."

"Hmph," Alin walked briskly away, trying to hide his blush. Of all the things he'd expected to possibly happen, being asked out was not one of them and he didn't know how to feel about it. Did he like Tsvetan? No, he hardly knew the man! But he wasn't that bad to look at, and chances were that they had a lot in common, so why not go for it? It could turn into something great. At the very least, it gave him an excuse to leave the house for once.

He couldn't help but feel uneasy around Tsvetan, but still, one date and he'd probably never be bothered by him again, as long as he made it clear that this was just a one-time event. There was still that part of Alin who wanted to run away and never see Tsvetan again, though he guessed the other would find some way of slipping back into his life. The blond walked through his flooded hall, groaning at the mess he still had to clean, and entered the kitchen.

There was a fresh vase of roses on the table.

He growled, seeing red and storming over to them, knocking them onto the floor with the back of his hand. The vase smashed into pieces, scattering the dark roses everywhere. The flowers stared up at him, mocking his discomfort cruelly and Alin was suddenly filled with dread at the thought of tomorrow.

* * *

"Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?" Tsvetan suggested, glancing at Alin expectantly. For nearly ten minutes now, neither had said a word as they walked through narrow streets in the evening light. It had been a warm summer's day, and now there was a cool, welcoming breeze in the air, other couples and groups of friends ambling past the pair. The streets were a flurry of brightly coloured dresses and shirts, and from a nearby café, a guitar played. Alin felt cold though, and cut off from the crowd; all he could focus on was the man next to him, and the crushing, awkward silence between them.

"Um, well," he nervously stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets, stealing glances at the other, "I'm a literature student. I like reading fairytales and classics, um, and I'm a bit of a nerd. My best friend and I are really into magic and Harry Potter. I think lynxes and bats are really interesting too. Err, that's about it, really."

Tsvetan nodded along, smiling politely. He seemed more natural here, like he was truly making an effort not to be frightening. His casual green shirt and jeans gave him a relaxed aura, so different from the creepy vibes he normally gave off, and Alin, for once, didn't feel the urge to run from him. He just smiled, looking around at the brightly coloured houses and shops they walked past, seemingly unaware of Alin's slight unease.

"And yourself?" Alin asked, desperate to know something about him.

"Oh, well I'm a gardener in my spare time," Tsvetan told him, "And I have my little garden, pretty proud of it, actually. And I quite like cooking, for other people, at least. I don't do much, to be honest, apart from lessons and hobbies."

"And what are you studying?"

Tsvetan thought for a moment. "History."

"Interesting! So… where are we even going?" Alin asked, picking at a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. They were walking along the riverbank now, a row of lamps lighting the way as the sun dipped down behind the buildings on the opposite bank, throwing splashes of red, orange and purple across the sky. The river sounded calming and gentle, broken only by the squawks of seabirds sitting atop the water, or flying in the sky above the pair. A group of children ran past, kicking a football between them and shouting cheerily. All these things Alin noticed in an attempt to not look at the man next to him for too long.

"Just a little place I've walked past a few times," Tsvetan waved a hand airily, "Nothing too fancy."

Soon enough, the brunet nodded in the direction of a tiny, cosy pub. It didn't stand out too much, with faded yellow paint and a hanging sign above the door. Boxes packed to the brim with flowers hung under every window, and the pavement outside was dotted with tables and chairs, some filled with people tucking into a hearty pub dinner, or simply downing various alcoholic drinks.

Alin nodded slowly as he stared at it; the place didn't seem too weird, or overly fancy, and he silently thanked Tsvetan for it. Maybe the man wasn't so bad after all. Tsvetan held out his hand, which Alin took, and led him inside.

The place was reasonably packed, not so crowded they could barely move, and not so empty that their arrival was a huge disturbance. People played snooker in the corner, and threw darts at an old, worn board. There was a circular bar in the middle, serving drinks to those slouched on stools. More people ate dinner here, squashed around tiny tables. The pair pushed past a group chatting with drinks in their hands, and sat at a corner table, two-seater and out of the way. No one looked in their direction.

"I'll get the drinks," Tsvetan told him, standing up again, "What would you like?"

"Vodka and lemonade."

Alin watched the other weave through tables on their way to the bar, lost in thought. He tried not to pass judgement on Tsvetan yet, but so far he was acting perfectly normal. What did Alin know, though? He'd met the man briefly two times, and knew next to nothing about him. Still, there was plenty of time for that. He looked over at Tsvetan, who was leaning casually against the bar, talking to the man next to him, and flashing a charming smile. He ran a hand through his hair, chuckling at whatever the other was saying. Alin wondered if he was attracted to him. Surely there would be something to tell him that, right? Tsvetan was handsome, with toned arms and a torso that was probably the same. When he smiled, a row of pointed teeth were revealed, teeth that Alin wouldn't mind gently nipping at his shoulders and lips. His stomach. The insides of his thighs. He covered his face with a hand, trying to hide his blush. Okay, maybe he wouldn't mind if Tsvetan dominated him for a bit. Not today, but in the future sometime, when they knew each other better and were ready for something like that. Alin wondered if the other was interested in a one-night stand. He hoped as much, since he doubted Tsvetan could keep up the 'normal' act for long, and he wanted to get something out of their relationship before it all went downhill.

Alin realised he was staring as Tsvetan returned with the drinks, and the other said nothing as he placed a glass in front of Alin and sat down opposite him.

"Sorry about that," he began, "The man next to me wouldn't shut up about his Grandpa's restaurant. I thought he was going to keep talking until he dropped dead."

"Well, at least you're free from him now," Alin winked, "And can pay attention to me."

"Of course!"

"So, err, do you have a part time job? I mean, you have to support yourself somehow, right?"

"Yes, I work in a supermarket," Tsvetan shrugged, "Dull business." He took a sip of his Rakia, staring at Alin evenly.

"As dull as cleaning cars at weekends? Still, hopefully that'll put a bit of muscle on me."

"You have a reasonably nice amount of muscle as it is."

"Thanks," Alin grinned, "But I wouldn't mind some more. So I can defend myself and all."

"Understandable," Tsvetan nodded slowly, taking a large gulp, "it's a dangerous world out there."

"How ominous," the Romanian laughed.

"Oh, sorry," Tsvetan's cheeks were dusted with red blush, "I'm not really good with romance. At all. It's really not my thing."

"I noticed. And what exactly about this is romantic? You said it was just two friends getting some drinks!"

Tsvetan's face fell, "I know, but…"

"You're really not good at romance, huh?" Alin leaned closer, resting his elbows on the table.

The brunet blushed and looked away, draining his drink. "No, never really cared about it before. Just spent centuries not giving a fuck about romance and then…" His eyes darted up and he looked at Alin in horror, like he'd revealed too much, but the other didn't notice. He leaned forward, taking Alin's hands in his, "So it would mean so much if you could love me back."

"Love?!" Alin cried, pulling his hands away, because this was too weird even by his standards. "What the hell? You don't just say things like that to people you just met!"

"You don't?"

"No! It's creepy and way too forward! I'm not even sure I want a second date at this point, and you're throwing the 'L' word around like no one's business! You don't know me! You don't know that we're a good match!"

"Oh," Tsvetan looked dumbfounded, "My friend Francis said declarations of love were all the rage…"

"Your friend's an idiot!"

"Well, I'll admit he's pretty old… err, old-fashioned. But he's all I had, and he reads lots of romance books and flirts easily so I thought-"

"Look, Borisov," Alin sighed, folding his arms, "I'll admit I don't know much about love either, but it appears I know more than you. Love doesn't happen after meeting someone three times. There can be a spark, yes, but it takes time to reach that kind of emotional intimacy. Saying you love someone too early can scare them away, so just, you know, wait."

"It can?" Tsvetan nodded, looking down, "Sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine. Just be careful when you speak."

"I'm trying…" He looked utterly miserable, small and wounded and riddled with guilt. Alin just shook his head as he downed the last of his drink.

"You'll get there. Maybe not with me, but someone, in the future."

"I don't want someone else," Tsvetan mumbled.

"Woah there," Alin laughed, though every bone in his body told him to run, "You can't say things like that either!"

"Oh… again, sorry," he collected their glasses, "I guess I need a bit more practice. Sorry about this. Same again?"

"Yeah, sure. Isn't it my turn to buy though?"

"Not at all!" Tsvetan scoffed, "My treat! I'm the one whose idea this was. Besides, I owe you for being a creep. Stay there." And he disappeared again.

 ** _To be continued_**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

A/N – Hello everyone! So, this is the last of the chaps previously published and… yeah, some action ahead, you have been warned. And yeah, it's creepy, in fact creepier than you might expect, hah! ;)

* * *

"He sounds so scary," Kuzey commented, "Why did you stay?"

Alin wrapped his hoodie tighter around him and shook his head. "To be honest, I wanted to sneak out when he was at the bar, but we were neighbours and went to the same university. We were bound to run into each other again, and how could I explain that I'd ditched him?"

"So you just went along with the date?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

"I was waiting for him to mess up," Alin explained, grinning mischievously, "He kept making little slip ups, but I needed something big. Something that would ensure he'd know I never wanted to see him again."

"And did he mess up?" asked Peter.

"Oh yes, child one, he did. Big time."

* * *

Alin boredly read through the menu, wondering if Tsvetan expected them to order food. He'd not eaten dinner, in case the other had taken him to a restaurant, and was feeling quite peckish after a long day writing coursework. Tsvetan hadn't mentioned it though. Did he forget? Or maybe he had something else planned.

He looked over at the bar where once again, Tsvetan was talking to that scrawny auburn-haired kid that looked barely old enough to drink legally. Their conversation looked more riled this time, with Tsvetan standing further back, arms crossed defensively whilst the other shouted at him. Suddenly, he snapped, shoving the other, who slapped him across the face.

"You little bastard!" he heard Tsvetan shout as the other picked up the bottle of wine he had been drinking from.

"No, wait!"

The Romanian jumped up from his seat, desperate to break up the fight before anyone went to hospital. He pushed past tables and reached them just in time to see Tsvetan break the leg off one of the stools, readying to swing it at the boy. All around him, people were jumping to their feet, some rushing forward to break them up whilst others tried to get as far away from the commotion as possible.

"Stop it!" Alin shouted as he jumped between them. Green glass flew towards him, and the wine bottle hit his face. He fell to the floor, blood pouring out of his nose and his mouth filled with a metallic taste. Above him, Tsvetan struck the boy with the chair leg.

"Hey! Enough!"

Several bar staff and waiters dragged the fighting duo away, receiving a few punches themselves, though they finally managed to confiscate their weapons and throw them out. Alin just sat slumped against a table as guests and diners fussed over him, and someone placed a tissue to his bleeding nose. When he eventually staggered outside after the other two, he found Tsvetan wrestling the boy on the floor, throwing punch after punch at his face. He had his knees on the kid's arms, preventing him from fighting back. The boy was crying now.

"Tsvetan, please…"

His voice came out barely more than a whisper, the lump in his throat stopping him from calling out. This wasn't happening. He took a few more steps closer, wiping blood from his sore nose. "Don't… do this," he tried again. This time, Tsvetan heard him, sitting up and forgetting about his victim.

"Your face," his soft voice trembled, laced with fear and anger, "He spilled your blood." The brunet's face twisted into a vicious look of hatred, and he threw another punch at the kid. Alin realised where he knew the boy from - it was little Feliciano the art student, the friendly, delicate boy who had befriended Alin when he thought the older boy was alone.

"Tsvetan, stop!" he cried.

"But he… this bastard! He hurt you! I'll make him hurt ten times more! I'll ruin his face! I'll kill him!"

"That won't make my pain go away and you've hurt the poor boy enough, now let him go."

"But-"

"Do. It."

Alin threw him a poisonous glare, and Tsvetan nodded, gulping. He stood up slowly, giving Feliciano one last kick in the stomach as he did so. The other jumped up, running away haphazardly and clutching his mouth, crying noisily for his brothers and Grandpa.

"Well, at least he knows not to hurt you again," Tsvetan murmured smugly, but his grin was wiped off when he saw the other's expression.

"You monster," Alin hissed, "Don't you feel any shame? You could've killed him the way you were carrying on!"

"He'd have deserved it," Tsvetan shrugged.

"You started the fight! This whole thing is your fault!" Alin screamed, "I saw you! You two were just using words until you pushed him! Take responsibility!"

"For what?" Tsvetan narrowed his eyes, "Getting my own back after he hurt the person I-"

"Don't say it! Don't you dare say you love me like that'll make everything better!"

"But I do-"

"No you don't! And it doesn't matter anyway, because I hate you!"

Silence. Even the river water seemed to still.

"You… hate me?" Tsvetan looked like he'd been slapped, mouth forming an o shape, eyes wide and watery.

"Yes! I don't want anything to do with you! Just stay out of my life! If you try to contact me again, I'll… I'll fucking call the police!"

* * *

"It didn't work out like that, did it?" asked Peter with a wince.

"Oh dear God no," Alin whispered, "I was such a fool…"

* * *

Tsvetan had some serious doubts about how this vampire thing worked after all, however awkward it was for one to ask themselves such a question after being one for a few centuries already. Of course, in essence, being a vampire was a pretty simple, uncomplicated type of existence, as long as one fed discreetly, without arousing any unwanted attention. And he'd stuck to that principle just fine until now.

Normally he would just creep in the dark and grasp unsuspecting victims, a simple act of sating his hunger in which he more often than not indulged in their precious life essence to the last drop. He'd been completely unable to understand his old friend Francis, who chose to live his life in the open – as an actor no less – spreading his charms nonchalantly, shamelessly, even bothering to make his victims enjoy themselves as he preyed on them. Ridiculous, the Bulgarian had thought… until he had met Alin Radacanu.

There was something about the boy, something alluring, addictive which went past the sheer flavour of his blood, which in itself was exquisite. Had it been only the Romanian's blood he craved, things would have been fairly simple and the business closed until now. But there was more, he wanted more, so much more. But he was unable to get it, hence his accursed predicament. And Francis had not been helpful, mostly because – as the Bulgarian now realised – he had really paid no attention to the man. Vampires were naturally beautiful, naturally attractive (or rather… unnaturally so), thus why should they have to employ any courtship scheming, any flattery, any soft skills to make someone love them totally, completely?

Evidently, it didn't work that way at all, Tsvetan pondered as he stood unmoved like a statue in the darkness outside Alin's house. The flooding – oh by God that had been so stupid! – had gotten Alin to his doorstep, as planned, but from there it had all gone very wrong, culminating with the moment in which the Romanian had shoved all those terrible words in his face, despite his own pathetic vulnerability.

 _Poor, mindless little boy! As if you could escape me…_

With somewhat of an amused sigh – now having drawn this conclusion – Tsvetan crept inside. Silly Alin, as if all the locks he'd carefully turned on his door could keep bad spirits out. The vampire advanced into the dark hallway, still smelling vaguely of damp, his footsteps light and cautious. Cautious because Alin's place was a terrible mess on a regular day (now a damp mess thanks to his machinations), but earlier the boy had come in angry and had furiously kicked various stuff in his way, causing a particularly high stash of books and literature magazines to collapse and spread all over the tiny hallway and partly into the living room.

The Bulgarian chuckled – of course. His object of interest was an artist, he would spend hours reading or writing to the point of utter oblivion, but cleaning definitely wasn't on his list. Tsvetan had discovered that even watching the boy as he went about his daily life – an unseen spectre no mortal could have ever noticed – was pleasurable to him.

For now, Alin was in the kitchen, most likely trying to get something done for dinner. The brunet wanted to kick himself so hard – if only he had taken his delectable neighbour to dinner instead of that shit bar! But that would have been a problem, since he didn't eat…. He could hear sobbing and sniffing coming out of the small kitchenette, along with the raw scent of freshly cut vegetables.

Forest green eyes swept yearningly over the delicate frame of his soon-to-be prey, whom was currently hunched over the wax cloth covered table, chopping some onions. Well, at least that explained the tears coming down his peachy cheeks – he really couldn't have been that upset. And thank God his nose bleeding had stopped, seeing all that precious blood go to waste had pushed Tsvetan past his boiling point. But ohhhh… his tears were a whole, previously undiscovered treasure! It was such a delectable, lovely sight to see the Romanian cry, even if they were fake tears really (and above all he'd not had the pleasure of being the cause of it himself).

Alin's delicate hand had a rather unsteady hold on the knife, he thought, manoeuvring the sharp blade dangerously close to his fingers as he squinted and sniffed continuously, unaware of his creepy neighbour's nose currently buried in his hair. Mmm, maybe he'll cut himself…

But maybe he had breathed out a bit too heavy, or he had let out any betraying sound (indeed the faintest moan may have left his lips), because the Romanian stopped his chopping and turned abruptly, alarmed, staring right into… well, into something he fortunately was unable to see. In this form Tsvetan had chosen (for once inspired), Alin could not see the deadly lust and hunger burning into the two green pools of poison staring at him from up close.

 _Oh… so very close._

Apparently, some other sound alerted the boy, for he walked further, out of the kitchen, knife still clutched in his almost shaky hand. He made his way into the living room, cautious, very nearly holding his breath as he glanced around.

"Oh, fuck that already!" Alin said out loud, the sighed tiredly, shaking his head and letting the dirty knife drop on the wooden floor with a dull clatter. Tsvetan sighed in turn, mentally noting that if this lovely boy was ever to become his vampiric child, he would have to put an end to this messy bullshit, even if he would have to beat it into him with a stick.

Tsvetan watched patiently as the Romanian dumped the leftovers of his light dinner in the trash bin and rinsed the dishes ill-humored.

 _Soon, very soon… my pet…_

Indeed, soon enough Alin headed to his bedroom, throwing a quick glance around the crammed, equally messy space before hastily sweeping away the pile of books and course notes from his bed with a lazy movement of his arm. Gripping the edge of the bedcovers, he shook them free from the last remainder of inconvenient stuff and then plopped down and slipped between the sheets, not bothering to change from the large, sleazy t-shirt and sweatpants he'd worn all evening.

The Bulgarian leaned casually against the doorframe for now, observing as the boy settled in and considering all the layers of fabric which would need removing. Alin switched off the bedside lamp placed directly on the floor and the small room was completely engulfed in darkness. The vampire waited a little longer and to his luck, it paid off – after some tossing and turning under the thick duvet which probably provided more than enough warmth, both the sweatpants and the t-shirt were hastily thrown across the room.

 _And now… I order you to sleep, my precious little bunny. You will not wake up unless I tell you to._

Darkness not hindering his sight in the least – if anything only sharpening his senses – Tsvetan climbed into bed with catlike movements, hovering above the slumbering form of his prey. With the sort of excitement one would feel when unwrapping a long-awaited gift, he pulled back the covers. Why had he waited and toiled uselessly for so long, the vampire wondered, letting the velvety petals of the black rose he'd pulled out of his pocket to trail over the boy's plump lower lip and further down on his chin, following his jaw line.

His face scrunching a bit in his sleep, the Romanian tilted his head to the side, exposing the ultimate temptation to the predator before him: his bare throat. Tsvetan licked his lips, able to feel the pulse racing under the smooth pale skin. Sure, it would have been much more enticing to watch a rosy blush spreading onto the boy's cheeks as he was being pinned down on the mattress, completely in his power, maybe even to read a bit a fear in those gorgeous red eyes. But for now… well for now this would have to do. The vampire had a sudden idea (which might have spoiled everything for the future, but right now he didn't give a damn) and leaned forward, bringing his lips to Alin's ear.

"I want you to dream of me, as I'm doing this to you while you lie here helpless. I want you to dream of me as I eat you whole."

Slender fingers tangled eagerly in the sleeping boy's honey coloured hair as Tsvetan tilted his face up and pressed his lips against his mouth. The vampire's skilled tongue delved in with ease, exploring slowly and relishing in the other's taste. Fangs grazed the plump lip, just enough to draw blood, which the Bulgarian savoured with a moan.

Alin's body was deliciously warm under him - all the more since now his face was getting a bit flushed and his pulse quickened – so the cool fingers left his hair and began their exploration, trailing down the delicate line of his neck, past his collarbone and further down his body. The dark-haired young man atop him only broke the hungry kiss he was currently enjoying to pull the undershirt the Romanian was still wearing past his head and out of the way.

Eventually the Bulgarian pulled away, glancing down at the now slightly swollen lips of his prey with a satisfied smirk, before he allowed himself to go any further. Then his lips at last began exploring the desired area – the boy's fully exposed throat. He lightly bit and nipped at the sensitive skin, but no, he would not rush things, no… better leave the best thing for last. His cold nose trailed down lower on the Romanian's body, inhaling the addictive scent of young skin.

As Tsvetan pushed himself lower on the bed, his own clothing became an unbearable hindrance. Impatiently, he clawed at his shirt, discarding it carelessly. Touch me, Alin, he mentally ordered, his whole body craving the warmth of the other. But the Romanian's fingers only gripped the sheets helplessly as the vampire's mouth latched onto one of his nipples, sharp teeth teasing it mercilessly, and a choked moan escaped his lips. Soon he was panting and his back arched off the mattress, pushing himself further into his predator's mouth.

The dark-haired young man elicited a loud gasp from his prey as he went further down and his skilful tongue slipped inside the boy's navel, teasing the miniscule crevice. "T-Tsvetan… ah I can't…" Alin breathed out at last.

As tension was gradually building up in his own body, the Bulgarian advanced even lower with his ministrations and brought his hands down to rub his thumbs teasingly onto the boy's hipbones, before his mouth closed onto one of them completely, mercilessly torturing the delicate bone by licking and sucking on it painfully slow.

"No… P-please…"

The vampire smirked, even allowing himself a small chuckle as he quickly discarded his remaining clothing and pulled Alin's boxers down in one swift movement. Biting his own lip mischievously, Tsvetan gently pushed his knees apart, revealing his currently neglected but already fully erect member and pressed a soft, almost chaste kiss onto the moist tip. His tongue teased it playfully as he licked around from top to base, then grazed his teeth carefully over the tip once more before taking it into his mouth entirely. Beneath him, the Romanian was a moaning mess, instinctively bucking his hips upwards as his most vulnerable part was prey to the other's sharpest part.

 _Not yet, my pet…_

Crawling upwards again, the Bulgarian captured his prey's mouth again, devouring it hungrily, passionately, as he reached down and grabbed the back of the boy's thighs, spreading them as far as he could. One slender leg was hooked onto his hip before he pushed himself in balls deep with one powerful thrust.

Alin cried into the kiss in protest, delicate fingers now clawing and digging into the vampire's biceps, trying to push him away, but to no avail. Tsvetan captured his hands with his own, pinning them to the sides once more as he interlaced their fingers. His kisses became less rough, almost gentle and soothing as he waited for a bit until the boy's body relaxed. He began thrusting slowly, rhythmically, in the same time planting butterfly kisses all over Alin's flushed cheeks, now wet with a mixture of sweat and tears.

"H-ah, faster… Tsvetan, faster and h-…harder!" the Romanian moaned beneath him, his voice suddenly accented, instinctively adjusting the angle of his hips as he was worked. The vampire smirked, licking the shell of his ear – only hearing Alin pronouncing his name with that accent of his was enough to send him over the edge.

"TSVETAN!"

That was it, he could help himself no longer. With a feral growl, the Bulgarian bit deep into the pulsating flesh of the boy's throat and hot blood invaded his mouth the same moment he reached his peak, prolonging it to no end. Alin cried, tossing and thrashing helplessly, but the dark-haired young man felt nothing but the blood, not knowing anything else, and not caring about anything else. He drank savagely, uncontrolled, quenching the burn in his throat, until the pleasure his body was experiencing was too much to bear and he collapsed on top of his prey, exhausted but incredibly satisfied.

Now he knew for sure – Alin Radacanu belonged with him.

* * *

"…I had a strange dream," was all Alin told the children.

"What was it about?" asked Peter curiously.

Alin faltered, looking at the three innocent faces before him. There was no way he could tell them what he'd dreamed, for even he didn't know the whole terrifying truth of what had happened. He shook his head.

"So what happened next?" asked Kuzey, not liking Alin's expression at all.

"I just sunk deeper and deeper…"

 ** _To be continued_**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! I'm back with an unexpected update to this fic, and I say 'unexpected' because until today I had absolutely no idea what would happen next! But then inspiration struck and there, new chap. So enjoy, everybunny ;)

 _Andrei - Moldova_

* * *

"Oh, _mon Dieu_!" Francis exclaimed, with a dramatic facepalm. "But how could you make such a mess of things? And you actually say that you care about that boy enough to make him your _vampire child_!"

"It's your stupid advice to blame, I told him all that crap about _love_ and sugarcoated shit and it blew up in my face like I've never seen," Tsvetan grumbled into his glass of wine. "I just knew it was shit!"

The blond rolled his eyes. "Because you only used the _words_. I can't believe that it hasn't occurred to you to use your mesmerizing powers as well? But I suppose, after you lived for centuries using nothing but brute force to hunt… Anyway, after all that you went and made an even bigger mess! What do you suppose he'll think when he wakes up in that state? Guess what, he'll think you slipped something in his drink back at the bar, then waited for him to fall asleep, sneaked into his house and raped him while he was out cold, the poor thing. Which would be a correct assumption for the most part…"

Tsvetan scowled, make an increasingly sourer face as the Frenchman continued to point out his wrongs and preach the right way to go about doing things. At least he'd made sure to ascertain all the way that Alin was indeed worth all this annoyance. He wasn't usually polite, or nice, or even remotely pleasant to people, nor was he usually in the mood to be. And why would he have bothered? They were all pathetic bastards. But now he would have to make an effort to please the boy, to win his affection and devotion. And more.

"And then, _mon ami_ , do I need to remind you of the responsibility of _turning_ someone?" Francis went on. "It cannot be some random choice, something you decide on a whim. You must make sure that he is worthy of receiving the dark gift."

The Bulgarian sighed. Of course, another lecture he didn't need – and he'd already considered it, almost from the first moment he'd laid eyes on Alin, the boy had that sort of eerie beauty and accursed charm which could easily make people lose their minds, the only thing keeping them from manifesting up to their true potential being the Romanian's sloppy and rather aloof way of being. But once he was made into one of Nosferatu's children that power would shine through and all that magic would be unleashed, the thought stirring something akin to jealousy in Tsvetan's mind. He would have to be very careful and not allow Alin to love or be loved by anyone else.

* * *

When he went back to his pet-to-be's house it was already dark again, but Alin was still asleep. Tsvetan was both relieved and disappointed at the discovery, relieved because he still had the chance to fix most of the fuck-up but also disappointed because the boy had turned out to be so weak that a little rough-up and a more thorough feeding had knocked him out for so long. It was a given that Alin had a delicate constitution, but also maybe he wasn't eating well? Tsvetan pulled the sheets off the slumbering form and gave the Romanian's bare body a quick assessment – not only was he youthfully skinny, his waist was impossibly slim too, almost like a girl's. Damn, as much as he rather enjoyed the view, he would have to take care of that matter if he didn't want his pet to expire before his actual turning.

The brunet leaned in and sank his fangs into his own wrist, then holding the bleeding wound to Alin's lips. A mouthful of his blood should have sufficed to fix all the visible and the more obviously feel-able damage, leaving only the fatigue of blood loss for when Alin was going to wake up. And _that_ he neither could nor wanted to fix, in fact it was a very convenient circumstance the Bulgarian planned to use in his favor.

* * *

When Alin woke up, clad in a clean pajama he didn't remember putting on, at first all he was able to do was to stare at the cracked ceiling. He felt as if run over by a truck and not even the slightest movement seemed appealing. Eventually, he did reach for his cell phone and both the date and the hour left him utterly confused. He had slept continuously for a night _and_ a whole day?!

At length the blond sat up, dizzy as hell, and flinched violently upon realizing that he wasn't alone in the house. He could tell, because he could see lights on outside his room and a smell of freshly made food wafted from the kitchen. But however pleasant, the flavor did nothing to diminish the boy's horror, _someone_ was still in his house. Feeling utterly helpless and pretty much limp as a rag, the Romanian could do nothing else but drop back on the mattress and curl up under the sheets. Maybe he was still dreaming? Or maybe if he wished it hard enough it would all go away?

"Hey…" a voice said softly and Alin nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his covered shoulder. But he'd heard no steps approaching! Had someone fucking _poltergeisted_ into his room just now?! He let out a cry, eyes wide as he faced the intruder at last.

"Hey, hey, it's okay! Alin, it's just me, relax, yes?" Tsvetan soothed in the same gentle voice and as he stared into those deep, forest green eyes, the Romanian felt all his memories of previous encounters with this man quickly become one blurry mess. He did recall yelling at the brunet the night before just before parting ways, but not why he'd done it. Everything was so hazy and God his head hurt so much! "Look, I'm sorry for barging in like this, but I was genuinely worried about you," the other went on to explain.

"You were… worried? Why?"

The vampire cleared his throat, faltering a bit. "Well, I… this morning I wanted to apologize for ruining our date, I don't know what had gotten into me, really. But then you wouldn't answer the door all day and I thought… Um," He paused, taking a deep breath. "Well, while we were at the pub you told me something which seemed pretty serious to me… Alin, you told me that someone is stalking you and even breaking into your house every now and then."

"What…? Did I say-… uh… did I tell you-"

"Yes, you said they were leaving things in the house, like… I think you said they were leaving some strange flowers all over the place?"

Alin buried his face in his hands, still trembling a bit. "Black roses. They're leaving black roses…"

"Oh God…" Tsvetan pressed closer, gathering the boy in his arms protectively. "Anyway, when you said that and knowing that you lived alone I imagined… I'm sorry, but I feared that they might have done something to you and then I climbed and looked through your bedroom window, because the lamp was on in the middle of the day, but you looked passed out on the bed… I got really scared, I genuinely wasn't thinking straight anymore so I came in through the living window. I'm really sorry!"

Alin instinctively curled up against the vampire's chest, horribly confused and lacking even the energy to try and make sense of things on his own. "I-I don't… I don't know what happened… I don't know why I slept so long a-and… I don't feel too well… We-were there anymore roses… did you find any black roses…?"

"No, no I didn't… But I can't say I looked either, my focus was you, I wanted to see if you were alright. Fortunately, it just turned out that you had a bit of fever… so that, plus you must be exhausted," Tsvetan stated, motioning towards the neatly arranged stacks of books lined up against the wall. "You're probably working too hard, your courses seem pretty tough."

The Romanian looked around the room and noticed in awe that it was far cleaner and more organized than usual. All the papers and books had been gathered from the floor and there were no more dirty clothes lying or hanging around either.

"Um, about that," the brunet hurried to explain, "I really hope you don't mind, I just wanted to make it up to you for yesterday, I sort of acted like a complete schmuck and said all those stupid things…" He mustered a demure, apologetic smile, even though he was sure that by now Alin probably didn't remember a quarter of the words passed between them."So I cleaned up a bit and seeing how you were ill and such, I thought I'd make you something warm and yummy to eat."

To the vampire's satisfaction, Alin looked less and less tense as he was speaking, and when food came up the boy appeared hopeful even.

"R-Really? You made food?" the strawberry blond asked shyly. Oh, wasn't he cute!

"Yes, mashed potatoes and roast chicken breast. Would you like a bite?"

The Romanian nodded without a second thought. He was still horribly tired, but also famished, since he'd only had some light dinner the previous evening. And now the smell coming from the kitchen honestly made his mouth water.

"Come on, I'll help you," Tsvetan offered, however it turned out to be slightly more than a simple 'help' when he lifted Alin up in his arms effortlessly and carried him all the way down to the kitchen. On the way, the blond noticed that everywhere around the house things had been put in order and furthermore, there were no traces left of the unfortunate flooding he'd been so worried about in the first place. His wary gaze swept over the place in habitual search of the telltale black roses, but they were nowhere to be seen this time. Maybe whoever was putting them everywhere had seen Tsvetan in the house and had given up the creepy act for the time being.

The Bulgarian carefully sat him down in a chair on which a soft pillow had been placed for additional comfort, then filled up a plate for him. Alin dug in right away, even if his hands still trembled a bit, making the vampire smile as he busied himself with pouring the boy some mineral water as well. He would need plenty of liquids too.

"Mmm, so good," the strawberry blond praised with his mouth full, curiously noting that Tsvetan wasn't eating with him. Instead, the bizarre neighbor had simply settled for watching him carefully, a slight awkward smile plastered on his lips, as if he wasn't really used to smiling. "I-I don't know how to thank you for all this…"

The brunet's eyes trailed down to the boy's neck, where a little while before there had been two nasty looking puncture wounds surrounded by bruised flesh. The now perfectly healed expanse of pale skin already stirred his appetite, but no, he would have to hold back until Alin was more restored.

"You don't have to thank me, I told you, I really wanted to make it up to you," he said. "Just focus on getting better for now and having your fill. I'll take you back to bed when you're done, so that you can get some more sleep. I, uh… I have two younger brothers back home and when they were little I cared for them a lot when they got sick and stuff, so I'm used to this."

Alin mustered a small smile at this, but inwardly the Bulgarian scowled at his own big mouth. Why the hell had he mentioned his human family, now of all times? It wasn't like he still missed them, after hundreds of years, in fact he barely remembered his siblings' faces. It was just a nice lie to show his pet what a good and caring person he was, yeah, that was it.

"Huh, I too have a little brother back home, his name is Andrei," the Romanian said. "I wasn't much of a nurse myself when it came to him, but I used to make him handmade toys from all sorts of stuff. We used to have a lot of fun by ourselves, but now that we're both grown up – that is to say he's no longer so little – yeah, we have other shit on our plates…"

The strawberry blond sighed, leaning back in his chair. He felt a bit better now after the delicious dinner and he felt relaxed and safe. Which was odd, because what he did remember was that _before_ he'd been having some off feelings about Tsvetan, and now suddenly everything was gone, that bad vibe and all. Could he really trust his neighbor? He practically didn't know Tsvetan at all, but still the man had taken care of him and really made some efforts instead of throwing some empty apologies. And to think he didn't even remember what their fight had been about!

"I'll gather the dishes later and clean up, let's get you to bed now."

"Oh, but… It's fine, you shouldn't…" Alin mumbled, blushing a bit and unsure on how to phrase his protest. It was rather awkward and he wasn't usually used to people being too nice to him, and now Tsvetan was suddenly doing too much. This haziness was weird too, but the way the brunet was holding him, those strong arms wrapped securely, protectively around him made him feel special like never before. Maybe after he got more sleep he should make an effort to put things together.

The vampire carried him back upstairs and tucked him in bed with a care which looked sort of too good to be true, after which he leaned in and pressed a soft, almost chaste kiss to the boy's lips. Alin was still very tired apparently, because he was out like a light in no time, so Tsvetan turned off the lamp and left the room.

He went back in the kitchen and diligently washed the dishes, then put the leftovers in the fridge, humming contentedly. Francis had been right about one thing, this _was_ easy (once the bearded bastard had actually taken the trouble to explain a bit more thoroughly what was to be done!). There had been no trace left of the boy's hostile attitude from their date, fact which he viewed as a big step forward in the desired direction. Okay, maybe that hadn't been entirely Alin's bad temper and the Romanian being a sensitive little shit, maybe he'd screwed up a little himself, the Bulgarian admitted, but that kid had been so annoying! He didn't have much patience with loud and obnoxious people to begin with and he had zero regrets for beating the shit out of the little Italian. In fact, if he hadn't been so shocked by the unexpected and epic fail of his romantic attempt, he should have found the respective boy and drunk him dry.

Still pondering on random stuff, the green-eyed young man wandered around the house for a while, pleased that he'd gotten things in order (he hated the constant mess Alin lived in and it was a relief that he'd gotten the chance to fix it), when he suddenly spotted, half-hidden under the edge of a nondescript furniture, a small pile of familiar-looking shards.

The vase in which he'd left a rich bouquet of black roses the last time on the coffee table.

Of course, a short trip through this future pet's thoughts had revealed the fact that Alin was rather spooked by his gestures, but Tsvetan still frowned at the sight. Sure, he'd managed to turn this little detail in his favor for now, but seriously, how could someone not _love_ roses?! Was it the color? Would Alin rather prefer some cliché red roses instead, ones to match the passionate crimson of his eyes? But still, what could be more beautiful than the pure, absolute black of the velvet petals he'd grown and nurtured with so much care? They were like the very essence of his soul and this profane boy had dared despise them!

The Bulgarian knelt and gathered the shards one by one, gingerly, as if they were the pieces of a broken heart.

* * *

Alin paused in his story, blinking back some sudden tears of bitterness which threatened to spill at the memory. After all, the point of this confession was to usefully pass the time while making these silly kids more aware of what was out there, of the darkness lurking in the world, not to make a fool of himself by crying in front of them and betraying his weakness. Yet that had been the moment in which he'd starting warming up to Tsvetan and maybe it was time he stopped beating himself up about it. It wasn't like anyone could have resisted such a powerful spell.

"And you just trusted him? After all he'd done before?" Peter asked, eyebrow quirking in pure disbelief. "You bought all that stuff he offered as an explanation?"

The strawberry blond sighed, fighting back a shudder as he stared into the flames. "I did. I did all that and more." A light snort made him pause. "But trust me, it would have been hard not to believe someone like him."

 ** _To be continued_**


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

A/N – Hello everyone and Happy New Year! (I'll probably be saying that for a while, at least for the first-time-this-year and in-January updates :)))) So here we are, after long time no update, with a new chap of this particularly creepy tale. Enjoy!

* * *

Alin stifled a yawn and stretched his aching back, dropping the pen over the half-written page. He very nearly reached again for the mug of coffee before remembering it had emptied a while ago and let out a groan. The sick days had predictably resulted in a substantial load of coursework piling up and even if the work was usually enjoyable, now he was very tired too and would have rather lazed around instead. The school work was the most urgent – reason for which the Romanian had started on it – but there was also food shopping to do, laundry and other stupid chores around the house, the mere thought of which consumed his precious and rather lacking energy.

The strawberry blond sighed, standing from his seat and collecting the empty mug. He needed a break (badly!) so maybe a quick lunch would make a good excuse for it. Alin was sure that somewhere in the depths of the cupboard there must have been a pack of instant soups left, if nothing else, therefore he made for the kitchen, his mind made up to have one. Instant soups were a last resort during busy, no-cooking times, but something tasty and warm saved any situation.

And then there was the noise. Nothing more than the lightest swish and a vague draft, just as Alin was reaching for the pack. The student carefully withdrew his hand, ears perked, and there it was again, more than just an impression. Something, or _someone_ was moving in the house, unseen and barely heard. He stiffened, eyes widening in horror as he barely dared to breathe.

Suddenly he decided to move, hand shooting out and snatching a meat knife from the rack. Fingers viciously clutching the handle, Alin turned brusquely and walked out the kitchen with light yet brisk steps, heading for the living. He mentally noted (yet again!) that this stupid house was way too big for him to be living alone in it and it was so cheap rent-wise just because it was fucking ancient, but he should really look for a new place sometime soon - some place much smaller and less creepy where no one could sneak in undetected.

The living-room was empty, but one window was ajar, the cold wind inflating the curtain. Still, it looked like too small an escape for the potential intruder.

"COME THE FUCK OUT! SHOW YOURSELF, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Alin yelled, knife weighed impatiently in a shaky hand. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"

Cautiously, he inched closer to the armchair, but there was no one crouched behind it, nor hiding behind the dancing curtain. The Romanian tugged at the drapes forcefully, pulling them aside all the way and clearing the view. There was no one outside either… but then in the reflection of the glass he noticed a sinister detail placed behind him.

A new, unfamiliar white crystal vase filled with black roses.

Alin drew closer, still holding the knife. The flowers were fresh and tiny drops of water sparkled like diamonds on the soft petals. In the middle of the bouquet there was a miniscule folded card made out of dark green paper with lacy edges. The strawberry blond reached out and picked the card with his free hand, flipping it open with two fingers and revealing some neat rows of verses, writing calligraphically in red ink on the creamy inside.

 _The more I think your love divine_

 _And place my heart upon its shrine_

 _The more your break and crush and tear_

 _Yet here I stand, forever grin and bear_

 _Cruel child, to hurt me have no qualm_

 _But please know this: I hold you in my palm_

Lips pressed in a thin line, the Romanian scowled - something inside of him oddly nudged him to acknowledge that there was a certain – albeit sinister – beauty to the flowers and even the poem. But still, this didn't change the fact that some loon kept invading his private space in incomprehensible ways and leaving creepy stuff, not to mention that the last line of the poem contained a warning (or very possibly a threat).

"Fuck this!"

* * *

The winter air was chilling him to the bone, making the student shrug in the thin sweater and his knuckles hurt as he desperately knocked on the door. Tsvetan was surely home, because he'd seen the lights on in the bedroom, why the hell wasn't he answering?! Alin was on the verge of hyperventilating!

Eventually the door opened slowly, revealing a disheveled-looking Bulgarian. His hair was ruffled and his dress shirt creased, as if he'd slept in it and just woken up. He gave Alin a cautious once-over, eyes coming to dwell on the knife still clutched in the younger's hand. The strawberry blond noticed it too and struggled for a reasonable explanation as to why he'd shown on his neighbor's doorstep with a blade out of the blue.

"I-I'm sorry… I just… it happened again," he mumbled, free hand fisting in his own hair. "I-I heard a noise in the living while I was getting something to eat a-and when I… w-when I got there the window was open and… m-more black roses and this!"

Tsvetan gingerly took the crumpled card Alin had just produced from his pocket and read its contents with a scowl, before moving smoothly to take the knife from the Romanian's hand.

"Why don't you come inside for a bit?" he offered. "You're freezing."

The student gladly walked in and plopped on the indicated sofa, proceeding to hug himself and trying to stop the uncontrollable shaking of his limbs. The Bulgarian disappeared somewhere, mumbling something about a warm tea, and Alin took his time looking around - the room was tastefully furnished with expensive-looking stuff, but sort of dark, heavy velvet drapes covering the windows and allowing very little light inside. Perhaps Tsvetan was working something or somewhere at night and rested whenever he could during the day? Alin suddenly wondered whether he wasn't disturbing the man and why his first impulse had been to knock on his neighbor's door instead of calling Arthur or anyone else…

"Here you go!"

Suddenly the dark-haired young man was back and sat down next to him, placing a cup of hot tea into his frozen hands. His green eyes sparkled with an odd gleam, all fatigue and caution from earlier gone. Alin took a small sip and enjoyed the sensation of instant warmth spreading through his body.

"Do you feel any better?" the Bulgarian asked softly, reaching out and rubbing the strawberry blond's back over the sweater. "You'll be warmed up in no time!"

"Yes, thank you! So…" the Romanian cleared his throat, straightening up a bit. "Do you think I should call the police? I mean… I know it's been happening for a while now, this shit, but, like, it's gotten worse somehow. You saw the note, that poem, it freaked me out to be honest. It fucking says 'I hold you in my palm'. It's like a fucking threat, isn't it?"

Tsvetan scowled, looking uncertain. "Huh, I know… but the police are useless," he stated. "Remember when I had that shit shop? There was a break-in at some point and when I called the police they only came and filled everything with that black, soot-like fingerprint dust. They didn't do shit, except made an even bigger mess of the things the burglars had already turned upside down. It took me fucking forever to clean up and I never heard from them again, nor seen any of the stolen stuff back."

The younger sipped some more tea, curling up against the backrest of the sofa. So what, was he supposed to do nothing, just wait and see how much worse this creepy shit was going to get? He couldn't think of anything except moving somewhere else, but where? Not back home with his parents, that was for sure!

"Look, I know it's a highly disturbing situation, but at least your stuff hasn't been taken or something and nobody's tried to do anything… What if it's just some emo kid who thinks you're a vampire?"

Alin's eyes widened in shock. "Wha-… Do you think I look like a vampire?!"

The other chuckled softly, before cupping the student's face and stroking the cheek with his thumb gently. "Well, you do look a little pale… and your teeth are a little sharp and your eyes have this unusual color… and you're above-average beautiful," Tsvetan grinned, leaning in. "So people may draw the wrong conclusion."

"It's not funny!"

"No, I know. But seriously now, the other day I was out in the yard working on the blasted sprinklers and some kids were passing by and I'm pretty sure I heard one of them say something like 'hey, this is where the vampire lives'. I thought they were talking about me, since I was out and all, and I was about to say a thing or two to them, but then I noticed that they weren't looking at my house…. But I still got sort of worked up about it, because I used to get a ton of shit anonymous hate mail when I had the magic gifts shop. I even found a dead rat on my doorstep, so that's partly why I closed it…"

Alin didn't have a magic gifts shop, but still he tried to figure out whether anything he was normally doing could have been possibly freaking anyone out. Sure, he liked dark colors for his clothes and was into keeping odd hours, but still… And the comments about his teeth and eyes were ages old, he'd really thought that stuff had been left behind.

"But this might be more serious than you think! What if I get a fucking stake through the heart or something?!" he grumbled. "I want to… get the fuck out of that house… I suppose whoever the fuck this is wouldn't come after me, would they? Because I think the creep lives around here somewhere…"

Tsvetan fought back a frown. The Romanian moving away would have probably hindered his plans a great deal, so he had to do something, preferably now. Blasted inconvenience, once again things had not worked out the way they were supposed to! He cleared his throat.

"Listen, Alin, I agree that it's an issue. But perhaps the problem is not so much this house, but the fact that you're living alone, okay? A lot of freaks target people who live by themselves, are a bit lonely, don't have a lot of friends and family coming over and stuff, and you fit the profile. So, yes, I'm afraid that whoever this is could still come after you even if you move away, unless you're moving in with someone. Think about it – so many flowers and now this poem… I don't think they're going to just give up!"

The strawberry blond ran a hand through his hair, letting out a deep sigh. His neighbor was right, it did make a lot of sense what he was saying, but who the hell could he move in with?! His only close friend was Arthur – who lived with his more or less insane siblings – and then there was Lukas, but again not a good idea… He could put up an ad to search for a roommate (after he found a new place first!), but it would take time until someone showed up… And living with a complete stranger was also something he wasn't comfortable with…

"Okay… I don't know how this is going to sound, but why not move in with me?" Tsvetan suddenly suggested. "Until you find something else, at least…"

"… I-I don't-…"

"Look, I swear I don't mean it _that way_ , nor do I harbor any dark intentions," the Bulgarian went on, mustering a sheepish smile. "Truth be told, I guess sharing the rent wouldn't hurt either," he confessed.

As he said so, Tsvetan allowed a bit of his vampiric charms twinkle in his eyes and become absorbed by the younger's gaze. Almost immediately he saw the spell take effect in the widening of Alin's pupils. The student set down the tea cup on the coffee table and his hands fell limply in his lap, breath slowing as his whole body relaxed completely.

"Okay…." The Romanian cleared his throat softly, sinking into the cushions. "So… if you needed the money why didn't you just find a roommate before? I mean… this house is pretty awesome…" he mumbled, already looking a bit dizzy. "I'm sure you could… get a decent amount per month…"

"Yeah, but I'm not comfortable with just _anyone_ ," the dark-haired young man replied, leaning in until he hovered over the strawberry blond's slumped form. He smiled, stroking Alin's cheek again. "I want to be with you."

 _And you had better heed my warning_

Again a pang of jealousy scorched Tsvetan's insides, along with a desire to devour, to rip apart this beautiful boy before anyone else could ever have him. All vampires were beautiful, but Alin would be special, one of a kind, a rare gem. The very color of his eyes was proof he'd been born to become a child of the Nosferatu, oh, the hearts he would break, the suffering he would cause!

"With… me?"

"Yes. With you."

He slowly pressed his lips against the younger's and Alin responded right away, opening his mouth and allowing Tsvetan's tongue inside. The vampire pressed closer, cupping the strawberry blond's face with both hands as he kissed him hungrily, sloppily. His lips then slipped down to Alin's chin and along his jaw line, all the way to the base of his ear.

"You will enjoy this, my cute little pet, I promise. I won't be careless this time, you won't feel any more pain. Only pleasure."

Even in his haze, the student panicked a bit upon hearing those confusing words, out of which he could clearly make out only the word 'pleasure'. There was no doubt that he was enjoying Tsvetan's touch, his kiss, but he really wasn't experienced with this sort of stuff, so however much he wanted to try it, it was still a bit daunting. His hands crept shyly up the Bulgarian's shoulders and wrapped around his neck, hoping the other would get the hint and take it slowly. Alin moaned softly and closed his eyes as he was pushed backwards on the sofa, the brunet shifting on top of him.

"Mhhh… Tsvetan… could you-"

"Shhh…"

Suddenly, there was a flash of sharp pain on the side of his neck - causing Alin to let out a small gasp - quickly followed by a familiar surge of warmth coiling in his lower belly. It got more and more intense with every stroke of tongue on his skin and every touch of those skillful hands roaming his body until his peak hit, harder than ever before.

And afterwards there was nothing but darkness.

 ** _To be continued_**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

A/N1 – Hello everyone! Well, it's been a while since I updated this and I'm sorry! I have been doing some changes and then some more changes to the plot plan, because it was initially a bit of a mess, I must say. But now that that's been sorted, here we are, so please enjoy the new chap ;)

A/N1 – A short but heartfelt message to all the trolls lurking in the shadows of this website:

 _Dear trolls, please be advised that the anonymous and out of context flames which you generously shower over random stories and fandoms you may or may not even be familiar with are utterly ridiculous and say a lot about who you are as a person. Truthfully, I find it rather sad and I'm genuinely sorry that you actually have nothing better to do._

… _AND I'm deleting them anyway_

* * *

White, burning white light filtered through the pristine cotton sheets, hurting his eyes. Alin groaned, swatting away the covers and jerking when the sun rays hit his face in full. Had he slept for so long that it was already morning again? And he wasn't… in his own bedroom?

"Mmmmhhh… what the-"

"Oh, I know, much too early for this sort of brightness," a smooth voice said and squinting the Romanian saw Tsvetan creep along the wall – the movement was oddly fluid, strikingly so even – and pull the blinds down, thankfully blocking the glare. He then saw the brunet's shape moving over to the bed, climbing in, until the Bulgarian was hovering right above him, a cheeky grin on his face.

Alin stared, momentarily unable to comprehend what exactly was going on. And then… he realized that he was naked. What. Was. That! Had he actually… did they have… ? But why couldn't he remember any of it? And it wasn't like he could actually ask, it would have been hella awkward…

"What's the matter?" Tsvetan asked, reaching out and pinching the student's nose. "Oh, I think I know… You're hungry."

The strawberry blond breathed out, fingers fisting inconspicuously in the sheets. "Uh… I s-suppose, but-… um… what is this exactly? Are we like… _friends_ now?"

"Mmmmhhh… "the brunet grimaced playfully, "Just… fuck this talk about… relationships and stuff, yeah? All I want is to be with you right now, look into your eyes and simply enjoy how gorgeous you are," he said, leaning forward and placing a teasing peck on the younger's lips.

"Yeah it was a ridiculous question, I guess, so maybe I should…" Alin fidgeted, wondering which was the best way to extract himself... well, from this particular situation.

"Now, now, Alin…" the Bulgarian said, lifting his chin with two fingers. "What did I tell you last night about being nervous? There's no need."

He sighed, pleased, as he took his time observing the student – his long strawberry blonde bangs were ruffled in a rather sexy-messy way, his smooth skin bare and nearly as white as the creased sheets wrapped awkwardly around the slim body in an endearing attempt to preserve _some_ decency. And there was also the absolutely delicious fear in those wide, carnelian orbs...

"Why are you fighting it?" Tsvetan asked softly with an ever widening grin, eyes twinkling with a secret charm. "I just want to eat you whole," he explained with a lopsided smirk.

Alin felt suddenly lightheaded, bold and careless, all inhibitions gone as if they'd never plagued him.

"Eat me whole then…" he agreed, breath hitching just a little bit, and the other couldn't but oblige the coy request.

 _Oh well…who am I to refuse such a treat?_ Tsvetan's eyes seemed to say as he licked the strawberry blond's plump lower lip briefly, before his tongue began exploring his mouth thoroughly, finding his own muscle and coaxing it to play, while pushing him back against the headboard. His hands rubbed the student's shoulders gently before sliding down onto his body and peeling off the sheets.

"Mmmm…ahhh," a deep moan escaped Alin as the vampire's mouth eventually left his for his throat. The pulse beneath that silky soft skin was beyond enticing, but the brunet decided that he could hold back his hunger this time, Alin was too precious, he would just go out to 'dinner' sometime later…

"A-ah!" the Romanian suddenly let out a hiss of pain as the other climbed on top of him, and tried to shift with a grimace.

"What's wrong?"

"I-I don't know really, it's weird but… I'm like sore all over… as if I'd taken a nasty tumble down the stairs or something…" he murmured weakly with his eyes closed.

Tsvetan tsked, eyebrow rising. "Hmmm, that's very interesting… sore all over you say, " he concluded with a small chuckle as he pressed a finger against the other's upward tipped nose. " I suppose we'll have to take care of that before anything else _._ Alright, tell me, where exactly does it hurt?"

"Um… my left shoulder," Alin replied numbly and moaned softly when strong fingers began to rub small circles on the specified spot. It must have been the fatigue of the recent events that made it feel so good. Yeah, that was definitely what it was…

"Where else?"

"Ahhn… my knee…"

The Bulgarian promptly attended to the indicated part of the other's body with the same diligence. "Feel any better now?"

"Y-yes, but only a bit," came the very predictable answer and the vampire laughed out loud this time. "Tch, Alin, your poor little nose… there are two extra inches to it easy… "

Alin licked his lips, breathing out. "W-Well, I'm sure you can make everything so much better," he said, heartbeat fastening as his own fingers blindly found the hem of Tsvetan's shirt and slipped underneath. Inexperienced fingers worked as fast as they could to rid the brunet of his shirt and toss it out of the bed, and then began tracing every contour of his exposed torso with the kind of awed nervousness that was almost palpable.

Tsvetan brought their mouths together a bit more forcefully this time, breathing in the over's soft moans, doing his best to suppress a not very polite but sincerely amused snicker at the student's obvious innocence. And while the vampire could fully understand his young lover's desire for curious exploration, he felt more of a pungent need of taking things a bit further, so he made a swift job of getting rid of the tangled sheets and throwing them across the room, so that in almost no time the blond was completely bare under him.

His mouth, which had never left Alin's all this time, made its way once more down to the blond's pulse point, as he nipped and teased the sensitive area. But he did not linger too much in that particular spot, eager as he was to again taste the lusciousness of his lover's body entirely. The milky, flawless white skin was incredibly soft under his lips like a delicate petal, much too fine and exquisite - Tsvetan concluded – to try one's fangs on any further momentarily. He only employed his teeth to graze over one pert nipple, right before his tongue twirled around it slowly.

"Oh good, I was worried…" he whispered still amused, pausing and craning his neck up for another kiss, a hand stroking over the Romanian's collarbone and reaching down to tease the other nipple by squeezing it gently. He smirked against the other boy's lips as he felt sharp fingers reaching up to dig into his back, and pulled away again letting his mouth travel south, eventually stopping to lick and tease the small bellybutton.

Alin's eyes widened as he stared at the cracked ceiling, his breath increasingly laboured as he allowed himself to feel all those new, weird, awkward, _wonderful_ things. And it all felt surprisingly natural, as if it was all mind-numbingly _meant to be_.

* * *

Alin rolled between the sheets, barely stifling a satisfied yawn. This was incredible, just… much too good to be true. He reached down lazily into the pile of clothes lying on the floor next to the side of the bed and fished out his phone. His fingers burned for the need to dial Arthur's number and tell his friend about everything, but he figured that his boyfriend might be out of the bathroom quicker than expected, so a text would do for now. Oh well, details later.

Having sent a brief message to his best friend, the Romanian dropped back on the pillows with a large, happy smile on his face.

' _Alin, please be careful.'_

The student picked up the buzzing phone and scowled at the screen. There was a bad vibe about his friend's reply, dampening his spirits unexpectedly.

' _What do you mean?'_

There was a long pause, during which Alin shifted and sat up on the pillows, scowling at the open door through which the Bulgarian had disappeared, wondering why he was having this feeling all the sudden.

' _I had a bad dream last night, Alin_ ' Arthur wrote back eventually. _'I dreamed you were dead.'_

* * *

"So anyway, Tsvetan was nice to me while I was in that state," the young man briefly resumed those fateful last couple of days. "He was… very supportive and I was actually foolish enough to believe that we had something, so when I got that text… I didn't know what to think."

"But… your friend was right, wasn't he?" Charlotte piped up over the light swish of wind through the broken window, like a sinister afterthought.

Alin turned and looked at the little girl intently, red eyes suddenly shining brighter, as if lit up by a hidden hellish fire. His upper lip rolled up into a feral snarl and a low, wolfish growl emitted from his throat.

"Quite so. Tsvetan was a bloodthirsty monster and I would soon find that out 'on my own skin', so to speak. And then… I wished he had just killed me, but it's never that simple, is it now? Because, fuck, he _loved me_! "

"You're a vampire."

Kuzey's words hung heavily in the room, followed by a deep silence only broken by the crackling of the small stove. Alin had resumed staring blankly into the flames, wondering at about which moment the three kids would snap out from shock and run away screaming. Or burst out laughing, for that matter. Either way, he knew from his own experience that this particular realization – that the sinister tales mainstream culture was constantly flooded with (except for the sparkly Twilight crap and a few other things) were true - was rather hard to digest.

"No way," said Charlotte, stubbornly shaking her chestnut curls. "It just can't be!"

"Oh?"

"I mean, if you really had been a vampire, you would have eaten us by now!"

The young man let out a low chuckle, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his ragged coat. Sharp fangs gleamed as he briefly chewed on his bottom lip, stifling amusement. It would have been so damn easy to scare the living daylights out of these brats, but… then again, scaring a bunch of kids would have been rather lame. Something Borisov would have done, probably.

"I _could_ have consumed the three of you by now, indeed," he stated eventually, "if you hadn't been unsavory to begin with and if you had given any sport. But as it is, you're in luck. I really don't like children, they're awfully dull."

Alin turned and glanced over his shoulder at the cracked window, noticing the slight gleams of white light on the tips of the shards. And indeed, through the barren branches he could see the sky turning a lighter shade of blue as dawn was at last breaking.

"I think it's time for the three of you to go home now," he pointed, motioning towards the door.

"N-no way!" Peter cried, small hands fisting in the hem of his own jacket, in a blatant surge of excitement. "All you've told us was that syrupy romance story of yours which isn't even… I don't know… that was just boring! But you've never told us anything about _you_! About what it's really like to be a vampire!"

The Romanian mentally cursed himself for the impulse of telling the story of his undoing to a bunch of brats, of all people. Seriously, what had he expected? But then again, he'd been living here on his own for way too long, this need to _just tell someone_ about his torment was comprehendible. And now this little pest was _excited_!

"I told you too much already," he replied, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice. "And you had better not pass it on…" Alin snorted. "Or you'll probably end up in a lunatic asylum. Wouldn't want that, would you now?"

He stood up, straightened his back and tossed what was left of the twig into the stove. "Come on."

Debris cracked under his light steps as he made his way to the front door, which the children had missed the night before. The rusty knob was stuck – Alin wasn't using it normally (which reminded him that, by the way, thanks to the blasted kids popping in uninvited he'd missed getting out for the night and grabbing some dinner, damn it!) – so the youth kicked it open irritably, letting in a rush of fresh air impregnated with the rich, earthy forest scents.

Peter faltered a bit, unasked questions still burning his lips, but Kuzey and Charlotte were obvious in their relief to get out of the house without a second glance back, even if the early morning chill got them shivering in no time. The vampire observed them and scowled lightly. There was a thing or two he'd have liked to say to the kids, but he figured they'd be given enough hell when they got home (at least if their parents were anything like his).

"Come on now, if you speed it up you'll get warm in no time," he grumbled, softly.

* * *

The three children hurried down an unfamiliar path among the thick, moss-covered trunks, realising that they must have missed it before while stumbling in the dark. Alin kept ahead with quick, smooth steps which barely made any noise, eyeing the lighting sky every now and then.

"There, see?" he pointed, halting his steps. "There's the open road. You'll find your way from there back to town." And indeed, a bluish-grey strip of concrete was visible nearby, through the bushes. Alin huffed, not trying to hide how glad he was that this whole inconvenience would be finally out of his hands.

"Wait! Do you think that this Tsvetan Borisov fellow still lives here, in town?" Peter asked brusquely.

"Oi! Don't ask me this shit, okay? Besides, don't you have more pressing matters to concern yourselves with?! Tch!"

"Okay, that's enough, Peter," Charlotte cut the petite blond just as his mouth had opened to retort. "We'll be on our way now. Thanks, mister!"

Arms crossed over the shabby coat and lips tightly pressed in annoyance, Alin watched the small figures moving further and further away. It was already late as fuck, his stomach was empty and the sun would probably rise before he made it back home.

"Fucking kids!" he spat.

 ** _To be continued_**

A/N – I forgot to mention at the beginning, if you want more of wicked-vamp!Tsve, check out my latest fic "Relinquo". Your boy's in there too and he'll wreak some havoc ;)))


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

A/N – Hello everyone! I don't even remember how long it's been since I've updated this, must have been a while. Anyway, things are on a slow but steady progress towards completion now and, without implying any spoilers, it does mean the eventual ease-up of workload ;)) So, enjoy the new chap!

 _Scotland – Allistor Kirkland_

* * *

Alin slammed the old wooden door as hard as he could without having that old shit break entirely, thoroughly pissed off by now. The sun was already up in the sky, his stomach was empty, his head hurt from all the talking (darn, he hadn't sustained such long conversations even when he'd been alive!) and those stupid kids had brought up all the stuffed down shit, like he needed fucking reminders or something!

Grumbling, the strawberry blond made his way through the debris littering the floor, kicking a few discarded items on the way and stirring age-old dust. He'd set up for himself a cot of sorts in a safe corner, covered with some old, ragged sheets and a somewhat soft blanket his body didn't actually need for warming, but he still found warmth comforting.

Curled up under the sheets, Alin shivered, squeezing his eyes shut. He shivered not out of cold, but in fear and chagrin. He shivered in pain, the thin cloths unable to protect him from those horrible, overwhelming emotions. And to think that he'd really, really hoped… God, _what the hell_ had he hoped for?

 _Alin had thrown some clothes on, finally feeling enough energy to crawl out of bed. The delicious breakfast left by his boyfriend on the nightstand had plastered a silly grin on his face from this new, unfamiliar yet heart-warming feeling of being cared for. He didn't know where Tsve had gone, (probably at work?) but he didn't mind being left on his own to wander around the house. He rather liked the place, it was a strange kind of fancy the student figured that he could get used to, so maybe moving in wasn't such a bad idea, even if was… too damn soon. But with that creep out there suddenly living alone was no longer such a great prospect._

 _The Romanian had explored the long hallway, opened another two doors only to discover empty guest rooms, kept in perfect order, a matter which sort of got him worried about having to make some drastic changes to his own messy lifestyle. Most likely Tsve wasn't going to put up with clothes lying around in wait for long overdue laundry days, piles of dishes gathering in the sink and layers of dust thick enough to make funny faces on. But then again, he'd never had a roommate before…_

 _And then he'd stumbled over the pliable ladder leading up on the roof, and thought that was exciting. Alin had no way of getting up on the roof of his own house – it wasn't the kind of roof you could enjoy getting up on anyway, unless you were into getting a quick, steep slide across sharp tiles followed by a free fall and some broken bones. But maybe the Bulgarian had a nice little terrace up there, perfect for sunbathing and even a barbeque? That would have been so cool!_

 _At first, the bright glare had blinded him._

 _Then, as his eyes had gradually gotten used to the light, sparking glass had come into view, white and pristine, like the many facets of a diamond. A glasshouse. Figured, after all Tsve had a thing for flowers, he grew several flowerbeds down in the garden, where the house more or less shaded them, but this must have been a great spot. And the set-up in itself looked rather fancy too, like everything else Tsve owned._

 _The student walked up to it, shielding his eyes with his hand from the merciless sunrays, and opened the small door, which was unlocked, curious to take a peek inside his boyfriend's treasure room._

 _His blood froze._

 _All around, in perfectly ordered pots, were small bushes of roses, the petals smooth and of a luscious black, shining like expensive velvet. Alin couldn't breathe. What sort of nightmare was this?!_

 _He dropped to his knees, weak and eyelids dropping to make the horrid vision disappear._

You were not supposed to see this before time my pet, my little love…

 _Numbly, shaking out of his daze against all odds, Alin reached out and tore one of the mocking flowers, heedless of the sharp thorns dotting the stem. He squeezed it in his fist, crushingly, black petals and crimson drops of blood slipping through his fingers._

Alin sat up in bed with a yelp, panting hard out of past living habits and swatted the covers away, for the briefest moment being under the impression that he was back in the satin-bedded coffin, locked up in that narrow space and being completely at his maker's mercy. His hand flew to the side of his neck, but the twin round scars there had long ceased hurting. Face buried in his trembling hands and shoulders hunched helpless, the young man began to weep.

* * *

"I can't believe you two are actually buying what that creep said," Charlotte stated, twisting her spoon into the pink topping. "Didn't it occur to you that he was just trying to sound interesting? And that story – it's probably from a movie or something. Black roses and poems… someone must have written that stuff," she said all-knowingly.

Kuzey didn't look so convinced, staring awkwardly into his own cup of ice-cream. "So what, you're saying that Alin is not really a vampire? And that he made it all up?"

"Of course, silly! Vampires do not exist!"

"Well… what do _you_ say, Peter?"

The bushy-browed blond nodded, greedily licking his spoon. "I believe him! I mean c'mon you guys, that was not a house any human could live in, right? It was way too cold inside, there was no furniture and nothing to eat." The boy excitedly shoveled another spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth. "I say we check out whether this is true or not!"

"What?" Kuzey asked. "How can we do such a thing?"

"Easy!" the blond declared. "I figured that the student's old house must be somewhere in the suburbs and there aren't many left as it is. We just find Mr. Borisov and investigate whether he's really a vampire or not. And if he is, of course we must find a way to deal with him!"

"Idiots," Charlotte stated coldly. "You'll just get us in trouble like you did the last time. Why can't you just-"

The two boys turned, following the brunette's surprised stare, as the words had died on Charlotte's lips. Her eyes were wide and the small hands had dropped limply to her sides, the abandoned spoon dripping melted ice-cream onto the table. A young man had walked up to the counter of the small shop and was talking to one of the girls, making her giggle flirtatiously. Nothing unusual so far, except that the children found something about the man that was utterly striking. Maybe there was something about his pale skin, raven-dark hair and light green eyes, maybe something in his sly demeanor, or maybe it was just his vibe that was ominous.

"Well, there's your order, Mr. Borisov," they heard the counter girl saying. "Please, come again soon!"

Peter, Kuzey and Charlotte moved in the same time, as if hypnotized, slipping off their high chairs and picking up their school bags from the floor. And, as the man left the small shop with a colorful cake box under his arm, they followed him automatically.

"Holy shit!" Peter murmured. "He's _real_. Tsvetan Borisov is real!"

* * *

Alin kicked the small stove and watched it flying across the room, smashing into the wall and causing an impressive crack before dropping dully onto the floor, in pieces. Good thing he hadn't lit it yet, because he really wasn't planning on burning down the shit of a house along with the woods around it, but damn he was angry, angry with this miserable dwelling, angry with his ragged clothes, angry of being forced into this wild solitude, like a fucking beast!

It was true that Tsvetan couldn't find him here, that was the whole point of this absurd hiding. Or could he? Maybe his maker wasn't even looking for him anymore. Maybe after two years he'd just given up, it probably didn't matter anymore. Tsvetan was an ancient, so Alin couldn't have possibly been his only 'child'. No, he must have made others, more interesting people, stronger people, who weren't horribly awkward in social situations and who weren't scared of their own shadow.

But the worst had been the _vision_. Those damned brats, Alin had never imagined they would end up plaguing his thoughts to such an extent that he'd actually see into their future. And he'd just _seen_ them going after Borisov.

WHAT THE FUCKEST FUCK WERE THEY THINKING?!

And now this was his responsibility. It was as he'd feared all along, that the time would eventually come when he'd have to get up, go out there and do something about it. Do something about _him_.

Of course, there were no less than a ton of disadvantages to the situation – the Romanian pondered as he slid the worn jacket off his shoulders and just tossed it on the floor on his way out – Borisov could move in daylight, the human blood he drank as well as his sheer age must have made him stronger and Alin didn't really know if any of the stuff supposed to work against vampires were actually effective (he had a strong suspicion that it was all just mainstream bullshit without real fundament).

If anyone could help, it was Arthur. The only problem was that his friend knew the truth, Alin had called and told him everything afterwards, specifically how the Englishman's dream had actually come true in the most horrible of ways. And following that particular conversation, the strawberry blond had a reason to assume that things wouldn't exactly go smoothly now.

* * *

Once things set in motion, Alin had used his Nosferatu charms to get several things for free – a motel room where he could get a decent shower, fresh clothes and a large glass of whiskey which had proven a bitter disappointment in terms of effect. It also brought about the equally bitter realization that while he could successfully mingle in the human world, getting by unnoticed and obtaining stuff inaccessible before, he would in fact never again be part of it. 'Thanks' to Tsvetan Borisov, he would never again see his family, be with his friends, go to school or get a job. He would just lead a lonely, hollow existence, wandering from place to place, hunting and looting to survive.

Trying to push all those gloomy thoughts aside for now, the young man rang the bell of Kirklands' townhouse, nervously twisting the ponytail in which he'd tied his outgrown hair. He didn't know how the Bulgarian pulled it off, but washing and putting on clean clothes looked like little improvement for his appearance, at least in his view. The pallor of his skin still stuck out oddly, as well as the dark shadows under his eyes.

"Who the hell are ye?!"

The question shouted loudly just after the front door had been nearly ripped off its hinges by the owner's violent hand didn't sound encouraging either.

"Invite me in," Alin said bluntly, eyeing the tall, wild-haired Scot who was blocking the entrance.

Allistor squinted a bit, eyebrow rising slightly, but then broke into a face-splitting grin. "Well, come in then, don't ye stand there!"

The vampire slipped by the momentarily charmed older brother and made his way upstairs. He'd only been to Arthur's place once or twice, precisely because of the respective older brother and his notorious mood swings, but his nose helped his memories in finding Arthur's room. He door was closed, so the Romanian knocked out of polite habit.

"Sod off, Allistor!" a grumpy voice offered from inside, followed by muffled coughing – his friend was probably smoking again.

Alin pressed the knob and pushed the door open, causing the blond Englishman to wheel around from the window, hand with the cigarette instantly sneaking behind his back. But then his eyes widened in absolute horror upon ascertaining who the unexpected visitor was, the still lit bud dropping from his hand.

"Oh… shit! Ahh…" Arthur gasped, trying to stumble backwards, anything just to put some distance between himself and his former friend turned monster, but only succeeded in knocking over his bedside lamp. "P-Please… Please don't!"

"Artie, it's me," Alin sighed, a pang of chagrin shooting through him like a hot spike. "It's _still_ me. I'm not going to do anything to you, okay? Jeez!"

"B-But… what are you doing here, then? And," the Brit paused, licking his lips nervously," Aren't you supposed to be invited in first or something? How'd you get in?!"

"Allistor invited me in," Alin explained, motioning with his head towards the door. "Would you just sit down, you're stressing me out. And put that shit off, it's burning the carpet!"

Arthur looked down and saw the fallen cigarette bud, and then quickly stomped over it. " _I_ 'm stressing you out?! And… um… so why are you here, if you don't want to-" He chewed on his bottom lip, arms crossing defensively. "I mean, what can I-"

The Romanian stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking embarrassed. "Look, Artie, I did something stupid, okay? I was lonely and bored and… got into a conversation with someone and I… I told them about Tsvetan."

" _You told them about Tsvetan_?" Arthur sniffed, drawing a shaky breath as he reached for the pack with a trembling hand and pulled out another cigarette. " _Who_ did you tell?!"

Alin waved his hand dismissively. "Some fucking kids, okay? That's not the worst of it. The worst is that I had a… a dream of sorts, more like a vision, that they were going after him!" He sighed deeply. "Artie, I just realized that I can't do this anymore… like, hide and stuff, I just need to get out and face the shit… and I can't let Tsvetan hurt anyone else. He's gotta go and I need your help with research. Arthur, I have to kill him."

The Englishman finally mustered up enough courage to come and sit on the bed next to his friend, even if the fingers holding the cigarette still shook. Green eyes swept warily and with a hint of sadness over the strawberry blond's face, familiar yet somehow foreign now, and then he touched Alin's shoulder.

"But… are you sure that you can? I mean… are you sure that you don't feel anything for him anymore?"

"Well, I…"

 ** _To be continued_**

A/N – I don't normally do this, but now I'm giving you guys a chance to vote: does Tsvetan die in the final chap or does he live? Let me know whether I should bring down the axe of destiny upon his neck or not!


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! Here we are, eventually at the end of this story. Bet you didn't see that coming, but here it is, folks, I'm ending this little tale of horror now and yes, your votes have been considered, as well as the ultimate vote of the original creator of this fic, my fellow author Republic-of-Yolossia. Thank you so much for your constant support along the chaps, as always it means so much to me to hear from people who enjoy the crazy crap I write. So here it is!

* * *

Peter wrestled for a long while with the deep drowsiness weighing heavily on his eyelids, pressing them shut, but when his eyes finally opened, an unfamiliar, frightening setting met his blurry gaze. He was in a dark room filled with crates and various decrepit pieces of furniture and vaguely lit by a miniscule, grated opening in the wall, close to the low ceiling. The boy realised that he was lying onto a mold-smelling, worn woolen rug, not even on his back but rather in a contorted heap, just as he'd been thrown. The blond began to move cautiously, first a finger and then the rest of his arm, followed by his other arm and finally his legs, wincing from the pervasive ache in his limbs.

"Kuzey? Charlotte?" he called weakly, struggling to get into a sitting position.

He had no idea where he was or how he'd ended up in here in the first place. The memories of past hours were a complete mess, from the point they'd left the small ice-cream parlor everything was a blur. But why…?

They'd decided to follow Tsvetan Borisov.

"P-Peter?" A muffled sniff. "Peter, is that you?" came a barely-there whimper.

The boy squinted, turning slightly and the stiffness in his neck causing him to wince some more. Kuzey was sitting with his back propped against a large crate, just beneath the grated window, almost invisible in the semi-obscurity, yet with a bit of effort the blond was able to make out his small, hunched frame as the other boy sat hugging himself.

"Kuzey! Are you okay?!"

Peter forced himself up on all fours and cautiously crawled to where his friend was, noticing with some relief that aside from a couple of bruises here and there, he could feel no injury on himself, so he hoped that Kuzey was fine too. His assumption turned out to be quite accurate, even if the smaller boy sported a rather painful bump on the side of his forehead and was even more confused.

"Hey! Where's Charlotte?" Peter's voice was but a whisper, but broke off entirely as he gulped upon noticing what his friend was pointing to. "Oh, my God! I-Is she-…?"

With a pained huff, the blond stood up and made his way over to the large crate the chestnut-haired girl was sprawled upon, legs hanging limply over the edge and head tossed to the side, as if she were sleeping. Her eyes were closed and pale lips slightly parted and upon leaning over her, Peter could see that she was breathing. Barely noticeable, but still breathing, he noted with some hope, before having his gaze drawn by the nasty-looking marks on her thin throat.

"He's got us! He's got us, didn't he?!" Kuzey broke into loud sobbing all the sudden. "A-And he'll feed on us! We're going to die, one by one, Peter! I'll never see Mom and Dad again! We're going to die in this horrible place!"

"No, we won't!" the bushy-browed boy hissed, albeit rather unconvincingly. "We'll find a way out! There's got to be a way out!" He threw a frantic look around, trying to locate the door. There _had_ to be a door, right? And if they found a way to open it – maybe he could try to pick the lock with one of Charlotte's hairclips, like he'd seen in the movies – they'd get out!

"M-Maybe…" Kuzey sniffed, having yet to dare move from his spot on the ground. "Maybe w-we can negotiate w-with Mr. Borisov…" he mumbled. "If he l-lets us go, w-we'll tell him… we tell him where Alin Radacanu is? Because he's l-looking for him, Borisov is looking… right?"

Peter was shocked. "W-What?! But-… Alin kept us safe and helped us find our way back home! You'd betray him?!"

"We d-don't have to tell him the truth! Just enough to believe us t-that we know something!"

"Like that's gonna work! He'll torture us to find out what he wants and he'll kill us afterwards! Don't you know that's how it always happens?! Tch!"

The little blond was about to deliver some more of his extensive mobster flick savvy when a sudden crack coming from the window broke his train of thought and made him turn around sharply. Crumbling mortar trickled down to the floor as a pair of hands neatly removed the iron grate from the tiny window, pulling it outside and out of view. For a few moments the hole was empty, a bit more of that pale light filtering inside now that there was nothing in its way, but then a man's shape blocked it entirely. Peter squealed weakly, retreating to where his friend was, and the two boys could do nothing but to cling to each other helplessly while watching in absolute horror as the person who'd dislocated the grate slipped inside with unnatural ease.

Peter blinked, squinting as the figure moved closer. "Alin! You came for us!" he cried.

The vampire walked up to the two boys and leaned over them, gripping the blond's jaw roughly. "Now, what did I tell you?!" he hissed in a low voice.

"That y-you don't like kids?" Kuzey tried.

"That's right. So why the fuck do you keep getting in my way? Huh?! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Alin asked, giving a finger bump to the boy's forehead every two words.

"W-We were just getting some ice-cream after school, I swear!" Peter cut in. "But then we saw Mr. Borisov walk in and talk to one of the serving ladies. And she called him 'Mr. Borisov'! And we just wanted to see… um… I guess that…"

The strawberry blond rubbed his brow, wondering out loud and in a grumbled voice what the fuck was Tsvetan doing in a fucking ice-cream shop. "Okay, here's the deal," he said afterwards, "Things will get ugly, so I'll get you the fuck out of here, but then you're on your own. Go home and fucking stay there, I'm serious!"

"But-… you have to help Charlotte first!" Kuzey piped up. "She's… I think she's…"

"What?" Alin peered over to the unconscious little girl, only now noticing her. His scowl deepened and a foul swear escaped him as he moved to get a closer look. "How long has she been like this?"

The two boys couldn't answer. They had no idea how much time it had passed since they'd started after Tsvetan even, how many hours, days maybe? It was impossible to guess. Frowning, Alin leaned over the unconscious girl and lightly pressed his fingers over her pulse point. The miniscule puncture wounds on the side of her neck were closed, but the mere sight of them, just above the slightly protruding vein triggered an unmistakable reaction. He'd fed a little while before, but this…

 _Human blood._

His pupils widened and the crimson irises darkened, and Alin felt his mouth beginning to water. The fingers of his other hand dug into the raw wood of the crate, extending into claws and piercing the splinters. But still, he shook his head and drew a deep breath, willing the urge to go away. If he had given it to it, it would have meant that he was no better than Tsvetan but equally monstrous and this whole thing was in vain.

"Don't worry, I'll fix her," the Romanian grumbled, snorting through his nose as he removed the sharpened nails from the wood and using his index finger to make a shallow cut into his wrist. He collected the surfacing crimson drops with the pad of his thumb and pushed them inside the little girl's mouth and onto her tongue. Who would have known that this disturbing piece of information was going to prove useful in the end, he thought bitterly.

A few moments later, Charlotte blinked sleepily, one hand rising slowly to rub her eyes as she squinted at the strawberry blond still hovering above her.

"W-What-… happened?" she murmured, trying to lift her head. "Where… are we?"

"Get up!" Alin told the two boys. "On your feet, now, we don't have time to waste," he added, scooping the still weak little girl into his arms and walking towards the window.

Charlotte was regaining her senses and strength quickly, so he lowered her carefully to stand on her own legs, albeit still propped against his body for support, and helped first Kuzey and then Peter to climb up and out through the opening. When they were safely out, he lifted the girl as well into her friends' arms.

"All is clear outside, now fuck off! Go straight home and don't get into any more shit, for fuck's sake! GO!"

"Thank you, Mr. Radacanu!" Peter chirped in a thin voice, then the little blonde head was gone from view.

* * *

 _Okay, now comes the shit…_

Alin sighed, partially relieved that he'd at least gotten the blasted kids out of harm's way. It was a miracle to find them all still alive, but he'd known they wouldn't be all dead in the worst of cases. Tsvetan liked to consume his prey slowly, that much he was privy too. Of course, it was shit that he'd had to wait until after sunset to leave Arthur's place, possibly wasting precious time as far as the children's safety was concerned, but the delay had given enough time to the Englishman to gather the stuff he needed during the day.

Fighting back a shudder running down his spine, he crouched and opened the bag he'd thrown in before slipping inside, inspecting its contents. Before coming here, he'd done some scouting and noticed that the house was still. The Bulgarian might have been able to walk in daylight without any problems, but still he rested between dawn and dusk just all Nosferatu children on most days and he liked to sleep in as much as the next person. Thus, chances were he wasn't up yet.

The Romanian stood up, weighing the thick wooden stake and the axe in his hands thoughtfully, unable not to observe that they looked like stuff from a cliché horror movie. The stake was really supposed to work, according to Arthur's information, but the axe he'd picked just because it felt good in his hand as a second weapon, no matter how disturbing that very thought seemed to be.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Alin was more than familiar with Borisov's basement, since his initiation coffin had been kept here, so that the young man wouldn't forget his new condition and status as his maker's captive and also someone dead to the world, buried for eternity. He knew the door to it as well, having studied the special lock the Bulgarian had put on it and having worked through it once before, because – and _that_ was a definite vantage point – Tsvetan was mostly superior through his vampiric powers, otherwise not excelling in brightness of the mind. Becoming a Nosferatu didn't sharpen someone's wits, apparently.

The Romanian made his way up the stairs with light, silent steps, both weapons tensely pressed against his thighs as he advanced. The hallway was silent, empty and dark, air slightly stale from long unopened windows and he picked up the scent of decaying roses, left in a vase somewhere nearby.

That one detail triggered a silent warning – maybe Tsvetan was waiting for him?

Just as he was walking towards the flight of stairs leading to the bedrooms, it dawned on Alin that he actually had no idea whether or not his maker had found out something about him from the kids. And the vision… could it have been a trap?!

 _Even if it's really a trap or I simply fuck this up because I can do no better, what will he do to me? He won't kill me. No, that would be too easy and he wants me. I'm his beautiful prize and he likes to collect beautiful things, the fucking bastard. So he'll keep me, somewhere he thinks I can't escape from, but he'll keep me… And even if not, I'm already dead, got no shit to lose now._

Strangely reassured by this conclusion, the strawberry blond started up the stairs, sneakers sinking into the soft, elegant carpet cladding the steps. The corridor was pitch dark, except for the dimming streak of light coming through the main bedroom door, which was left ajar.

"Ah shit, the fucker is up already," Alin muttered under his breath, stomach cringing in panic. Yet with fear also came burning rage, at the thought of the broken wreck he'd become at the Bulgarian's hands. Afraid of his own fucking shadow!

His grip tightened on the two weapons, a tingling in his fingers as he suddenly ached to use them on the other's flesh. Arthur had been wrong to assume he wouldn't be up for it because of lingering feelings – people killed their significant others all the time, it must have been the sort of hatred only love could birth or something.

He reached the bedroom and threw one rapid, fruitless peek inside before slowly pushing the door open with the tip of the stake. The curtains were pulled aside, the last remnants of daylight pouring into the empty room, the only evidence of its owner's presence being the crumpled sheets.

"I wonder what this is, did you really miss me, Al?"

A strong arm wrapped around Alin's neck before he could turn and a knee forcefully shoved into the small of his back, hard enough to hear something cracking and sharp pain shooting up his spine. In the next second, he was thrown face first onto the bedroom floor, the stake rolling away from his right hand as he hit the ground and Tsvetan pressed his foot on his spine to hold him down.

The Romanian felt his nose crack upon the brutal impact and it truly was a horrible sensation, but by some miracle still held on to the axe. In a split-second impulse he swung his arm backwards full strength, awkward as the move was and at the risk of dislocating his shoulder, hitting the brunet's leg.

Tsvetan grunted and the weight lifted off his back, the pain easing up a bit as well. Alin quickly rolled away and was up on his feet in an instant, despite the awful ache the brusque movement caused.

"You little-…! What do you think you're doing?!" the green-eyed young man chided, angry and still amused in the same time. "What exactly did you expect to accomplish? Hmm?"

The strawberry blond refused to answer, lips pressed tightly as he scowled, wiping his bloody nose with the back of his free hand.

"And that stake, "Tsvetan went on, "Do you know what it does? How about _I_ show _you_?" He picked up the fallen stake, weighing it in his hand thoughtfully as the other cautiously withdrew towards the wall, throwing a rapid glance to the open door and wondering if he could just dash. Probably not.

"If I don't wish it, you won't even dare move," said the Bulgarian, pinning Alin with a bottle-green glare. "And while you stand there _perfectly still_ , I will show you what the stake does, so that you will never again think that you can get away from me, waste my time in that fashion, and then return to wreak havoc and play Van Hellsing around here!"

 _YOU DON'T HOLD THAT POWER OVER ME! YOU NO LONGER HOLD ANY FUCKING POWER OVER ME!_

Rage flared inside the younger man anew and his arm shot up just as Tsvetan was sauntering closer, with an absolute will to wipe that fucking smirk off his face once and for all. The blade of the axe collided with the side of the brunet's skull, sending him down to the ground in an instant. Alin tried to hit him again, but the other vampire dodged it. He was weak though, a cracked skull took some time to heal and crawling away wouldn't save him. Another blow caught his shoulder, eliciting a howl of pain, yet the Bulgarian still managed to drag himself out in the hallway in the time it took for Alin to retrieve the stake which had flown from the other's hand upon impact.

"You fucking bastard," he spat, walking up and shoving his heel into the nape of his former lover's neck. "You took everything from me!"

He lifted the stake, aiming for a forceful thrust between the other vampire's shoulder blades.

"Stop right there, _mon ami_ ," a silky voice said suddenly, with a poisonous edge. "I really don't think you want to go through with it."

Alin froze, squinting down the hallway and seeing two figures, one taller and one shorter, until they came in full view. The one who had spoken was a tall, blue-eyed blond with long hair swept elegantly over his shoulder in a ponytail tied with a crimson silk ribbon. Another vampire. And the smaller one, held tightly by the scruff of his neck by the other's sharp-nailed hand, was Arthur.

He was going to be sick.

"Look at him, the Impaler reborn," the blond vampire spoke in a strong French accent. "Nothing but pure, blinding blood thirst!"

The Romanian barely heard the comment, eyes trained on his friend's face. The Englishman was very pale, barely holding himself up on his feet and his eyes were glazed, obvious proof he'd been bitten recently. This was so, so _wrong_! Arthur was never supposed to-

"My child Tsvetan was right," the Frenchman went on just as casually as before. "You are exquisite, as expected of Valah blood. But I'm afraid you've turned out to be a bit of a bad boy, haven't you?" He tsked. "Quite the contradiction though, because as berserk as you may be, the sight of your poor friend here stayed your hand… I don't know what to make of it."

"Y-You're… his maker?"

"Indeed. Tsvetan is my vampiric child, and being privy to the abysmal _merde_ he is prone to doing every now and then, I've been keeping an eye on you ever since you were turned. Now, you're probably wondering why I wouldn't tell him where you were all this time, but I'm not taking care of his shit in that much detail…"

Down on the floor, the Bulgarian was getting livelier, on the verge of pushing himself up, so Alin shoved his heel into the back of his head again, this time shifting his whole weight on the leg.

"Oi, do you know how easy it would be to just snap your little friend's neck? Like a toothpick," the Frenchman threatened.

"The fuck do you want, _Grandpa_?! Let go of him, or I'll make swift work of your precious child!" the strawberry blond spat, gritting his teeth.

The blue-eyed blond sighed dramatically. "I tell you what, you unruly child. Promise you will meet me again when I call upon you to do so, and then you can have your friend in exchange for Tsvetan. I agree that he deserves a little humiliation, seeing how he was unable to keep you in check, ohonhonhon!"

Alin narrowed his gaze, but saw the Frenchman loosening his grip on Arthur. "Fine! You've got yourself a deal," he replied reluctantly. He threw down the axe, but kept the stake, shoving it expertly up his sleeve as he stepped forward and grabbed Arthur, scooping him in his arms before the blond would collapse.

"Name's Francis Bonnefoy, little one," he heard the Frenchman say as he started down the steps. "Looking forward to meeting you soon!"

 ** _THE END_**


End file.
